Zombocalypse
by Penelope Bacon
Summary: The farm is overrun and the group has nowhere left to turn. Daryl gets robbed by a sarcastic slip of a girl and refuses to let it go, dragging his people on a wild goose chase to find his beloved crossbow. What they find might make it worth their while.
1. Lena and the Baby Aspirin

_**A/N**: Obviously I don't own any of this, otherwise I'd be hella rich. I'm just a big fan in need of some Walking Dead drama. And since the show is off for a while this seemed like a perfect outlet. Questions, comments, and suggestions are all welcome as long as you are polite and courteous. I'm all about constructive criticism and I know I'm no Chuck Palahniuk or Jonathan Safran Foer, but please be kind._

_Quickly I'd just like to explain that this takes place a little after where the season 2 finale leaves off. The farm is gone and the group is looking for somewhere safe to hole up. I thought it would be cool to put them on a little journey before they get to the prison so that is where my story comes in._

_Please enjoy and let me know what you think. :)_

"Hello?"

Daryl padded cautiously out of the stairwell onto the second floor landing. His voice echoed down the quiet hall. The walls seemed to shudder in revulsion at the foreign sound. It felt stupid, so he did it again.

"Hello?"

There was water dripping softly somewhere, but beyond that his words were a lonely howl in the otherwise silent halls. The place had been lost to time and slumbered on, oblivious to his presence.

_Drip. _

_Drip._

A dirty hand rubbed tiredly at hair crunchy with dirt and grime. Muttering incoherently in frustration he lowered his crossbow satisfied for the moment that he was alone. He shuffled into the first room on the hall and went straight to the window that looked out on the parking lot. Below he could see the rest of his group waiting while he secured the main building. He was always the one jumping in first and risking his neck for the pack, no back up, and never so much as a thank you.

_Drip._

_Drip._

He watched as Rick, Hershel and Glenn split up to check out the neighboring buildings, most likely for supplies. There were only a few more rooms to look into here, but he was fairly confident the office was empty. If the silly wallpaper covered in zoo animals was any indication, this place was some sort of pediatrics facility. The paper they used to cover the patient chairs had yellowed with age but was otherwise smooth, untouched. It was possible they'd be able to scrounge up some medical supplies.

Moments like this were rare, moments alone. Daryl let out a long sigh and pressed his cheek to the cool glass, thankful for the break.

It had been almost a week since the farm was overrun. After his outburst that first night Rick was mostly silent, no longer benevolently conversing with the whole, but choosing to discuss only with Hershel his plans for the future. The men rarely talked, all in somber moods. The women never missed a beat when it came to their nagging though. The worry and stress probably only made it worse these past few days. This group was so loud, so constantly dramatic. Daryl could only take so much of it. It was truly a miracle they'd made it this far.

He closed his eyes and took another deep calming breath, his crossbow held slack at his side. That's when he heard it, the groaning. It was faint at first. He waited silently a moment, just to be sure. More groaning followed and then glass shattered somewhere farther down the hall. He moved toward the sound immediately at the ready. The groaning got louder now as he closed in on the turn in the hallway.

"Piece of shit!" A girl's voice hissed as more glass broke, this time accompanied by a sickly wet thump. Just as Daryl rounded the corner he set eyes a tall dark woman taking a baseball bat to the rotting corpse of what was once a nurse. Another swing to the nurse's temple and she was down for the count. The window behind her was shattered. If she noticed Daryl she paid him no mind as another geek came through the door next to her and lunged at her throat. She dodged and it crashed into the gaping window, arms and chest dangling out. Grabbing one of its legs she heaved it over and out onto the concrete below.

"Howdy!" She exclaimed breathlessly without batting an eye. She wiped her hands on her ratty black jeans and bent to pick up her fallen bat. Finally she set eyes on him, leaning against the wall in an attempt to catch her breath. He stared at her stupidly, not sure how to react.

"So much for being stealthy am I right?" She grinned and nodded her head in his direction.

"Two more coming up behind you." She mentioned conversationally. He turned in surprise and caught the first one with a bolt. The second came at him before he could reload. He shoved it into the wall and quickly took his knife to its temple. Turning back he found the woman engaged with another who'd popped out of the side room.

"Where the fuck are they all coming from?" She huffed indignantly as she tussled with the big bloody dead guy.

"A little help here! If you'd be so kind?" The girl hollered almost comically. Daryl shook himself and loaded another bolt, leveling it on the walker. She shoved it into a desk and ducked out of the way just in time. The bolt went clean through his skull.

"Thanks." She breathed.

"Sure." Daryl went to retrieve the bolt, the wet squish now a familiar sound as he dislodged it from the geek's eye socket. Turning back to her he found himself gazing down the barrel of a gun. She shrugged apologetically at him but made no move to back down. Dark green eyes twinkled at him in amusement. She'd caught him completely by surprise and was obviously enjoying his confusion.

"What the…"

"I'm gonna need you to hand over all your weapons kind sir." She tried politely still smirking. He almost laughed at that, shocked at her bravado. This only served to piss her off. She leveled him with a glare, tightening her grip on the gun.

"You think I'm kidding. Why do they always think I'm kidding?" She said more to herself than to him. To communicate just how serious she was she cocked the trigger, loading a round into the chamber and effectively startling him.

"There we go, now you're listening. First I want you to toss me that bag." She nodded toward the patient bed behind him, on it was a large satchel full of supplies she'd been gathering. So she wasn't big on sharing, that much was obvious. He put his hands up in supplication and eased toward it.

"Zip it up before you toss it pretty please." She instructed sweetly. He grunted angrily but did as she asked, holding back any snide remarks.

"Now your pretty crossbow. Slide it over." He pushed it across the floor and slid the pack of bolts after it, knowing it would be next. She grabbed them quickly and slung them over her right shoulder, never lowering her gun.

"Your gun." She made a gesture with her own gun at his trousers, knowing he hid one there under his shirt.

"Come on! You'd leave me defenseless? That ain't fair." He pulled it out all the same, reluctantly sliding it to her.

"Tough luck cowboy. And don't play me for a fool. You still have a knife, not to mention however many of your friends waiting outside. I'd say you've got a fighting chance." She bit out sarcastically, tucking his gun into the back of her jeans.

"You can keep the knife. I'm feeling generous-like today." She said the last part in an awful imitation of a southern accent, clearly mocking him as she freed her curly dark brown locks from under the straps of the supply bag. She leveled the gun back on his forehead having strayed momentarily toward his nether regions.

"Alrighty, pleasure doing business with ya old man, but I've really gotta get going." She backed towards the door, gun on him the whole way. He tested a step, and then another. She paused in the doorway.

"Just to clarify, if you try to follow me, I _will_ shoot you. I'll even do it with your gun, just to be poetic." She smiled ironically at him, "Tell your friends I said hello." With that she grabbed for the door to slam it shut, finally lowering the gun. He made to follow, lunging at the doorknob before she could close it fully but she'd already beat him to it. It was locked from the outside. Through the little slit window on the door he could see her disappearing down the back stairwell.

"Son of a bitch!" He slammed a fist into the metal door and turned quickly, making for the stairwell at the front entrance.

_((o))_

Lena forced the heavy door closed with all her might, a metallic thud met her success. The door knob rattled, signifying the man's attempt to pursue.

She nearly shat herself at the sound.

Thank god for whatever idiot installed the lock on the wrong side of the door.

"Oh shit. Oh shit. Shit. Shitty, shit, shit!" Lena breathed over and over again in a panic. She nearly tumbled down the staircase in her haste to get away, taking two steps at a time. Her footsteps echoed noisily through the empty stairwell. Worn-out brown boots clacked loud against the old rusted metal of each stair.

Stealth be damned. She'd already been found out.

She should've listened to Tyrone, stuck to the plan. Bad things always happened when she decided to improvise. And for what? All she'd found was fucking baby aspirin.

_Doctor's office my ass!_ She quipped internally.

She could already hear Tyrone and his judgey voice: _"Damn it Lena! Every fucking time!" _Oh boy! She couldn't wait.

There was no way she could outrun that redneck guy, even with the head start. Finally reaching the bottom floor she burst through the emergency exit. The daylight was blinding. Tenting long tanned fingers over her eyes she scanned her surroundings frantically forming an escape plan.

The exit let out to the back parking lot where she'd first noticed them. And she'd noticed them much too late of course. She counted only five men, all heavily armed, from her hiding place in the doctor's office. Five too many and she could guarantee there were more. But they'd scattered the perimeter long before she caught sight of their vehicles, so she couldn't be sure just how many more.

Getting out without being noticed was highly unlikely by that point.

Scattered was okay though; She could do scattered, one at a time. She had a fighting chance that way. A group of them, not so much.

She hurried toward their abandoned cars. If she was lucky they'd been careless and left the keys in.

Reaching the closest one, a red Chevy, she threw open the door and searched desperately for a set of keys. Finding nothing she abandoned the first car and moved on to the second. Again there were no keys to be found. She heard footsteps followed by a throat clearing and turned to see an Asian boy who looked to be near her age. He stood a few feet away next to the open driver's side door of a beat up old pick up truck. He eyed her nervously. There was no sign of any of the others from his group nearby.

Perfect.

"Thank you for being small." She whispered to herself, running straight at him. She could tell she had the upper hand, being a good head taller. He whimpered and reached for something in the cab of the truck. Turning back to her he took a stance and raised a small crowbar, fear written clearly all over his face.

He thought she was a walker.

_Damn, do I really look that awful? _She thought, indignant, her step faltering a beat.

_It hasn't been that long since I showered._ She made a mental note to find a new change of clothes should she be lucky enough to escape her current predicament.

"No, no! It's okay. I'm alive! I'm alive!" She protested before he could take a swing at her. She continued toward him, knowing she was running out of time. That redneck guy would be out here any second.

The boy was obviously relieved she wasn't a walker and lowered his weapon, giving Lena just enough time to get close and clock him in the face. She took the crowbar easily and shoved him away from the truck. He crumpled to his knees, blindly grabbing for the truck door in an attempt to stabilize. His nose gushed, running red all down the front of his shirt that was already crusted over with old browning blood.

She almost felt bad. He never even stood a chance. But she knew she'd be much worse off if she didn't get out of here fast.

"Sorry dude! No hard feelings. Heat of the moment and all." She patted him awkwardly on the head even as she hopped over him into the truck. He groaned pitifully, still trying to right himself. Lena caught sight of the keys lying on the dash and sighed in relief. She grabbed them quickly and shoved them into the ignition. The old pickup sputtered to life.

"Candy from a baby." She muttered to herself, leaning over to close the door. The boy made one last feeble attempt to stop her. He twisted a bloodied fist into her shirttail, still clutching his nose with the other.

The redneck rounded the corner then. The lines of his face were contorted in absolute rage. His face was positively red and his brow slick with sweat.

Lena had never felt the fear of God until that moment she laid eyes on the angry man. All her nightmares of redneck stereotypes taking literal form. She sped her efforts in sheer terror.

Catching sight of the situation he barreled toward them with renewed fervor, cussing loudly the whole way. Lena muttered a curse of her own and snatched the Asian boy's wrist away from her shirt.

"You'll live. Suck it up." She assured him with a shove backward. His butt hit the concrete and he rolled into a fetal position, now holding his face with both hands.

Quickly slamming the door she shifted gears and gunned it out of the parking lot. For the moment she forgot she was an atheist and praised whatever higher power might exist as she observed the redneck disappearing fast in the rearview mirror. He gave up after only a block and doubled back, more than likely to get a vehicle to better chase after her with.

Never slowing down she turned into every neighborhood and back road she could find until she was certain he hadn't caught up to her. She finally idled on a small cul-de-sac and reached into the supply bag to fish out her walkie. Taking a deep breath she turned it on and mentally prepared herself for the wrath of Tyrone.

"Ty. You there? Over." She waited, met only with static for a few moments. Finally a crackle. Tyrone's voice filtered through like music to her ears.

"We're good to go. Where are you? Over."

"Can't say. We have company. Definitely hostile. I might have a tail. You know the drill. Over." Lena admitted with a wince. His response was instantaneous, clearly agitated with the news.

"Damn it Lena. Every fucking time!" She would've smiled at how predictable he could be if she didn't feel like crying right then. She waited to see if he had anything more to add.

Knowing Tyrone he'd save the good stuff for when they were all back at camp. Ripping her a new asshole was one of his favorite pass-times. Of course it was only because he cared.

When he said nothing more she clicked back in. They couldn't leave the walkies on for much longer.

"Sorry buddy. Stay safe. Maybe I'll be back in time for supper. Over and out."

"Don't do anything—" She didn't give him a chance to finish with the lecture, shutting the walkie off and tossing it back in the bag.

From then on it would be radio silence. She was on her own now. As long as the others were safe she was more than okay with that. They had a rule. Protocol if you will. They always split up on supply runs, just in case they ran into other survivors. In the event of an encounter (or near encounter) they would cut all communication and find their own ways back to camp. It was an attempt at keeping their base and everyone inside it safe, especially if the encounters were of a less than friendly nature, and they almost always were.

Desperate times.

Desperate people.

This was a whole new world. A whole new game and not everyone liked to play nice. They'd learned that the hard way last time.

_Last time._

She'd never let that happen again. No matter the cost.

Lena groaned and bounced her head against the steering wheel, exhausted. The adrenaline high of her escape was winding down fast only to be replaced with absolute dread at the knowledge that she had to go back. Or at least get as close as she could without being discovered.

Taking a deep calming breath she reached a hand back into the supply bag. It took only a second to find the pack of Marlboros stashed there in a hidden pouch. She fished out a lighter as well and quickly lit a cigarette, taking a long drag as she scanned the cul-de-sac for walking corpses.

Sometimes she forgot there were dead people walking around. It was the living ones that scared her more as of late.

She took another long drag, working up the courage she needed to go back and retrieve what she'd forgotten in her race to escape.

She'd left something very important in the woods nearby and if she dared to turn back up at camp without it her dedushka* would murder her.

No exaggeration, the man was a former KGB agent and certifiably bonkers.

Steeling her resolve she checked the streets once more for any signs that she'd been followed and reluctantly began the drive back toward the medical complex, praying to any deity listening that she would make it through this unscathed.

_*dedushka or in cyrillic: дедушка, is grandfather in Russian._

_Questions, comments, or complaints?_


	2. The Scientology Monkey

_**(A/N:** Alright, here it is, the next chapter. This was even harder than the last one. I hope you guys like it. Again, anything recognizable is obviously not mine, I'm just borrowing because yay Walking Dead. I'd also like to thank everyone for reading, favoriting, and commenting, I really appreciate it! It makes me feel all special-like! Anyway, lemme know what you think. I'm always open to suggestions and constructive criticism. Enjoy!)_

A strong wind blew through the trees. Leaves orange and yellow stirred from their resting place in the underbrush. Lena kept hidden as much as she could manage, ducking behind bushes and thicker trees.

There wasn't much in the way of cover. Fall had taken most of the leaves and turned the woods all shades of brown, which left Lena's black attire in sharp contrast to her surroundings. She was an easy target for anyone with a smart enough eye. With that in mind she did well not to get too close to the edge of the woods.

Once upon a time this would've been her favorite time of year. She recalled fondly the forest that surrounded her papa's house in Novosibirsk. The autumn air there always carried a slight chill; '_winter's promise soon to follow'_ he would say.

As a child she'd spent hours wandering the woods, marveling at the chalky white bark of the birch trees, the reds and golds of the leaves. Nothing in the world could compare.

Every day there was like a fairytale.

She hadn't gone to visit in forever and feared there would never be another chance for it. She still owned the house and the land, but even before the dead began to rise, just the thought of returning to Russia was difficult after her father's passing.

The seasons were so different here in the south, or '_the bowels of the States'_ as her dedushka preferred to call it. Why the old man insisted on living here was beyond her. He claimed it was better than anything Russia had to offer but complained endlessly about the hot, muggy weather.

From a distance she could tell the group she'd run into earlier had yet to move on. She could see the shine of flashlights bouncing around through the windows of the doctor's office and assumed the group had taken shelter there for the night. Their vehicles were still parked just the way she had left them, save for the one she'd commandeered.

Speaking of, she'd abandoned the old pick up truck about a mile back on a little dirt road near a trailer park and walked the rest of the way. She was in enough danger as it was, no need to go announcing her presence by driving straight in.

It took her the better part of an hour to get back. Trekking through backyards and roadside ditches to avoid detection slowed her progress. And there were the zombies too. Not too many of them, just enough to be a nuisance.

Halfway through her journey she could've sworn she heard a motorcycle close by and dove into a playground sandbox for protection. She felt like an idiot immediately afterward. Her imagination must've been working overtime. No one in their right mind would ride a motorcycle around during the zombie apocalypse. _Right?_

Finding a thick grouping of bushes with some leaves still hanging onto the branches Lena decided she'd gotten as close as she safely could and stopped. She let the supply bag slide off her shoulder and hit the ground with a muted thud, kicking it under the bushes for temporary safekeeping. She tossed the crossbow down with it and gathered some leaves overtop to keep them well hidden.

Standing to her full height Lena pressed her back into the tree nearest her, hiding herself out of view from the parking lot and medical center. She drew in a deep breath then and with her thumb and forefinger pressed to her lips, whistled as loud as she could. Her dedushka would've been proud. Then he would've realized why she was even here in the first place and given her a good verbal lashing for being so stupid and careless to leaving his precious Laikas behind.

He loved those two drooling heaps of fur more than he could ever love another human being.

Within seconds she heard yips and howls rise in the distance, an excited response to her call. She thanked god for what felt like the hundredth time that day and slid down the tree into a crouch to wait. Maybe there was something to this religion stuff after all.

Lena estimated they were only a few minutes away by the sound. And her van was parked just up the street a bit. As long as the two idiot dogs didn't get distracted by a squirrel or something and take too long, she actually stood a chance of getting out of here sans confrontation.

She prayed to be that lucky.

It seemed fate had other plans.

_Man plans, God laughs._

A door opened and slammed, the front door to the doctor's office most likely. Lena dared not peek, afraid of being seen. It was still light enough that she'd be easily visible.

She held her breath and waited.

Light, hurried footsteps carried to the middle of the parking lot and stopped.

Were it not for her heart hammering loudly against her ribcage like a trapped bird, Lena would've thought she'd gone deaf in the few seconds of absolute silence that followed.

Finally after what felt like an eternity she heard a feminine gasp, lungs filling deep and wide, and a woman's voice cry out in a despair. So overwhelmed by her fear Lena hardly understood the word until the third time the woman called out.

"Carl!" The voice wailed, over and over again.

Lena's heart stopped when her brain began to fully process the information.

A woman.

It was a woman.

They had a woman.

What did that mean? Who was Carl? Were they hurting her?

"Carl?" She wailed again, sounding near tears. She sounded much closer this time. Was she alone? Lena dared a quick peek, leaning toward the bushes to use as cover. The woman was standing in the middle of the parking lot, hands fisted tight in her dark unruly hair. Her eyes looked wild, almost crazy.

Lena's body finally found release from the grip of fear and caught up with her brain. It begged for her to go and help the poor woman but she froze again when she saw the doors swing open once more. This time two men, one large and muscular, his head clean-shaven, the other much leaner with fair skin and the beginnings of a beard, emerged and sprinted towards her. They didn't look very happy.

"Lori," the smaller man hissed angrily, "I want you back inside. Now!" With a vice-like grip he took her upper arm and tried to lead her back in. She turned a furious eye on him and tried to slap his hands away.

"Don't touch me!" Lori screamed, outraged.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She repeated louder. The two glared at each other silently, neither backing down.

The second man looked incredibly uncomfortable but ready to step in if need be. He hastily scanned their surroundings, his eyes moving over Lena's hiding place but not stopping. Her heart skipped a beat and she ducked back behind the tree, thankful he hadn't seen her. She rested her forehead against the bark of the tree and stilled, waiting for whatever came next.

A brief struggle followed. The woman screamed louder than Lena ever thought was humanly possible. She continued to scream, shrill and blood curdling, even as the two men dragged her forcefully back into the building. Lena dared not look but she could tell the woman was fighting tooth and nail the whole way. She could hardly comprehend what the woman was screaming about, only catching bits and pieces about 'Carl missing' 'out there'.

She felt terrible but didn't know what she could possibly do. Straightening out of her crouch she closed her eyes and pressed her face into the bark again, breathing unevenly and cursing heavily in Russian.

Too late she heard the rustle of leaves behind her followed by the distinct metal clink of a gun hammer. She went to reach for her own gun, tucked away at the front of her jeans but stopped cold when she felt steel touch the back of her neck.

"Don't think so sweet heart." Came the familiar southern twang from earlier.

"I see you found a new gun." Lena commented, raising her hands slowly in a show of defeat. She cursed herself for not noticing his approach. She should've been more careful.

"I'd like my old one back all the same." He snapped in reply, stepping closer and nudging her between the shoulders with the steel barrel. He was so close his breath tickled the shell of her right ear. She could see his long nose and stern jaw out of the corner of her eye as he leaned over her threateningly. She felt his warm hand slide around her waist and snake under her loose-fitting shirt. It took everything in her not to flinch. His large fingers grasped the gun hidden there and pulled it out of her waistband. The warmed metal slid across the exposed skin at her hip like a sweet caress. Were it not for the context of this encounter Lena thought she might actually be turned on. That or scared shitless.

But she quickly remember where she was, the woman she'd seen a few minutes ago, and who she was dealing with now and white hot fear shot through her veins with renewed fervor.

Sliding the gun into his own waistband he backed away from her, which she took as an indication for her to turn and face him.

Icy blue eyes observed her with a quiet calm that was slightly unnerving. He'd lowered his weapon, but held his stance, ready to pounce at the slightest movement. He wasn't underestimating her like the first time they'd met. Smart man.

They watched each other silently for a while. Lena wasn't sure what was going on and her fear was finally getting the best of her. It felt like he was waiting for her to say something, so she blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"Sorry I stole your gun." She offered lamely. Her eyes wandered to where her stuff lay hidden in the bushes. If she played her cards right she might be able to get to the other gun she had there. He caught her sly glances though and saw the hidden crossbow, its strap showing through the leaves. Knowing what she was planning he immediately stepped in front of the bushes, effectively cutting off her path.

"Don't think so." He chided.

Night had taken them. The sun faded away behind the horizon, taking the last of its weak rays with it. Still those blue eyes held her, somehow shining bright even in the new night sky. They both knew how dangerous it was out in the open like this, especially after that woman had practically rung the dinner bell. But still he kept her there.

Was this a test? What did he want?

They both jolted from their trance-like state at the sound of leaves rustling a few yards away. For the first time since this whole mess started Lena was grateful for her dedushka's stupid hunting dogs. The Laikas, large hulking beasts that they were, emerged from the brush, bounding toward the two humans without a care in the world. Their black and brown fur wet and mud covered, they saw Lena and increased their speed, jumping and yipping happily. One of them held a rabbit in its teeth, no doubt a present for her. She almost laughed at the absurdity. The stupid dogs had no idea what was going on.

Lena took the man's distraction as an opportunity and lunged for him.

A gunshot rang out and instead of pushing the redneck and running like she'd planned, she found herself falling into him. The whole right side of her body began to burn with pain indescribable as they both sunk to the ground, Lena on top. He turned them, pinning her down but immediately loosened his grip when she didn't fight back.

He looked confused. She couldn't understand why. He'd shot her hadn't he? What was so confusing about that? She felt feverish, staring up at him.

Oh god, she'd been shot! She tried to block out the pain, looking down to where their chests met. His shoulders heaved with each breath. He pulled away to give her space and she could clearly see that his once white shirt was now stained crimson.

Blood.

Her blood.

With the last of her strength she looked down at her own chest. The fabric at her right shoulder was shredded open and there was blood everywhere. She couldn't hold her head up any longer and let it fall back toward the ground.

Just when she thought the burning had died down she screamed in agony at a new pressure. She looked up into the redneck's face. He was pressing down on her shoulder hard with one hand and holding her cheek softly with the other. The contrast in the two different touches seemed almost cruel. But somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he was only trying to help, to keep her from bleeding out.

But why? Hadn't he meant to shoot her?

He was saying something to her but she couldn't hear him over the ringing in her ears. Her vision swam. She tried to reach out for him. It felt like she was drowning. Her face felt wet. At first she thought she must be crying but she saw the long pink tongues poking in and out at her eyelids and knew better. The dogs. The dogs were licking her. For some reason that made her irrationally angry. How dare they slobber on her face, she was busy dying.

The man's eyes seemed to laugh at her, as if he knew what she was thinking. She tried to hold on to the clear blue of his irises but before she passed out the last thing she saw was the small boy who stood behind him. His small pale face smattered with freckles and his mouth set in a grim line. The hat on his head was much too big for him, she thought, as was the gun he held tightly with both hands.

"Carl…" She whispered and then the world went black.

_((o))_

"It's okay. You're gonna be just fine." Daryl insisted. He stroked the side of her face gently and cupped her cheek, trying to keep her focus off of her shoulder as he pushed his other palm flat against the wound to stem the bleeding. Pain-filled eyes sought his for anchor. Her copper skin was losing its luster with each passing second. He pressed harder still. Blood flowered fresh around his palm, darkening the fabric of her shirt and falling to paint the leaves beneath her.

The dogs circled frantically, keened softly their nervous energy. Finally one settled near the girl's head and began to lick her cheek in an attempt to comfort. The other went to lick the wound but Daryl slapped its muzzle away. It puffed its cheeks out at him indignantly and instead joined the first, lapping at her forehead. Their whimpers stirred her to alertness, her face weakly contorting into a look of disgust.

"Can't you fuckers see I'm busy dying? Stop licking… no respect…" She mumbled feebly. Daryl chuckled darkly and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear to busy his shaking hands.

The others were gathered in the parking lot now. He could hear them. A few called out for him, for the boy stood behind him. The rest tried to shush them loudly, completely missing the point of the shushing. He didn't bother to respond, so focused on the girl in his arms.

She looked up at him again, eyes glassy, terrified. Forest green locked onto sky blue. In that moment the last shreds of consciousness faded from her eyes. Eyelids shuttered, pupils dilated so that only a thin ring of green shown through. Seemingly without recognition her long and slender fingers touched weakly at his cheek as if reaching for help.

This girl was different to the one he'd met earlier, the one who'd fearlessly waved a gun at his crotch and mocked him.

This girl was frightened. Helpless. Resigned. The range of emotions playing across her face, barriers fallen, made him anxious. He'd never felt so at odds with his own, normally repressed emotions.

"Carl! CARL!" Lori was screaming. Carl shifted uneasily behind Daryl but dared not make a sound.

"Carl…" The girl murmured, gazing past Daryl now at the small figure of Carl. It was the last thing she had any strength for. Her eyes rolled up into the back of her head from the effort, and she blacked out.

Daryl looked over his shoulder at Carl, with his gun and his too big cowboy hat, and sneered.

Again Lori cried out and this time Daryl saw fit to reply.

"Over here!" He bellowed. Immediately followed arguing over which direction his voice came from, and then feet pounding against pavement as they hastened closer.

"Hurry!" He looked down at the woman in his arms and tapped an ashen cheek. At first he got no response. Her breath was so shallow he had to put an ear to her lips to be sure she was even breathing. He shifted her limp body in his arms, pulling away a little so he could look at her again just as Lori, Rick, Hershel and T-Dog broke through the tree line. The dogs whined anxiously at the new arrivals but otherwise remained unmoving at their master's side.

Lori heard the whines and began to run blindly in their direction. The rest trailed after her, more cautious.

"Is it Carl? Is he hurt!" She wailed in a panic.

"I'm fine mom." Carl replied. Lori cried out in relief and ran to him, scooping him up. His too big hat fell to the ground as she spun him, all the while exclaiming how worried she was. Rick stood at a distance, still at odds with his wife. Hershel bent over Daryl, assessing the gunshot wound in the girls shoulder.

"Girl he shot ain't. Now quit yur yappin' woman. We got enough problems without you inviting every walker in the county to dinner." Daryl scorned. Lori stopped and let Carl's feet touch back on the ground. She gave Daryl an angry look but otherwise shut her mouth when she noticed the unconscious woman in his arms.

Daryl stood, lifting the girl with him, and started walking quickly toward the building. Hershel and T-Dog hovered close, ready to come to his aid if need be. The dogs followed even closer, bumping his shins with their lanky bodies. The smaller one wove in and out of the crowd toward the building as if trying to herd them.

She wasn't very heavy for someone so tall Daryl observed as he hoisted her a little higher in his grip. Her eyes shot open at being jostled, probably feeling all kinds of new pains. Green eyes sought his again for a comfort without words. He was starting to feel like a momma bird. He tried to keep her steady as he moved through the doors and inside but he could tell each step sent a jolt of fresh pain through her side. Her eyes started to roll back again. Her head lolled dangerously.

"Stay with me kid." Her eyes were glassed over but she fought hard to keep them open.

"Hershel?" Rick looked to the man in question. Lori and Carl disappeared into the waiting room off to the side. Daryl continued toward the far end of the hall, the others in tow. The dogs kept close to Daryl, scanning their surroundings nervously, unsure of themselves.

"I'll do what I can. I'll need any pain killers you have left," Hershel said looking to Daryl.

"You know where I keep 'em?" Daryl asked Rick quietly as he placed the girl gently on the first gurney he came to. Rick nodded and jogged back outside to fetch Merle's stash from the saddlebag of the motorcycle.

Maggie poked her head out a few doors down to see what the all commotion was about. Seeing the injured girl she immediately came to father's side to offer her help.

"Maggie, get my bag, it's in the Chevy. Quickly." Without a word she trotted after Rick.

Hershel laid a palm against the girl's scalding hot forehead. She mumbled incoherently, eyelids dancing rapidly. Again she blacked out.

Glenn rounded the corner nearly stumbling over the gurney. His eyebrows shot straight to his hairline when he saw who was lying on it.

"Is that—" He stuttered.

"Yup." Daryl affirmed, not waiting for him to finish the thought.

"Did you?—"

"Carl." Daryl bit out angrily.

"Oh…" Glenn just stared dumbly between the girl and Daryl, unsure of what to do next. Maggie and Rick returned then. Maggie set the bag down and began helping her father pull out the things he would need to operate. He took a pair of scissors to her shirt, cutting straight down the middle, exposing her naked chest. Daryl had the decency to look away. Glenn still stood muted in shock.

The blood soaked fabric stuck to the shredded skin of her shoulder as Hershel gently pulled it away. The open flesh had to be sterilized before he could work on it. And she'd already lost too much blood. He raised his eyes to Glenn's worried face.

"Glenn, my flashlight, I left it in the hallway upstairs. We need light." Hershel instructed. Glenn stood still.

"Glenn!" Hershel barked, sending Glenn into action. He fled quickly down the hall to do as he'd been told.

_((o))_

A short time later found most of the group scattered all down the dark hallway in silent contemplation as Hershel worked. Daryl stood by the unconscious girl's head, ready to pin her down should she wake up. She had once already, screaming bloody murder and thrashing violently to get away from the scalpel at her shoulder. She knocked Glenn in the face again, albeit not on purpose this time, but she got him just as good. He'd decided to hand off the flashlight to Maggie after that, walking off to nurse his bloody nose. It took forever to get the dogs to stop barking.

Carol hovered close, petting the giant dogs. They'd finally settled, waiting patiently for their master to wake up. Carol's eyes never left Daryl. He was hunched over, tense, hands pressing into the metal frame of the gurney on either side of the girl's head. He was a mess. Carol worried he would take it too personally if the girl didn't make it, just like Sophia. She didn't want that for him, not again.

"She won't be out much longer," Hershel observed, "There's one more big sliver I can get to but she can't afford to lose anymore blood so I'm gonna have to leave the rest." He continued, speaking to no one in particular.

"Hold that flashlight up high, it's deep in there. I'll need all the light I can get." Maggie did as Hershel asked, raising the flashlight up overhead so he could see better.

The bright light washed out the girl's complexion even more and Daryl tried hard not to let his gaze stray any lower than her wound. Now was not the time to be a pervert, even if it had been a forever since he'd seen a naked woman.

Blue lips and sallow skin; she looked so small, frail against the tired white sheets. But even still, covered in crusting blood she was a pretty little thing.

Hershel had cleaned the area immediately around the wound, contrasting the dirt and oil streaked across the rest of her body, arms, collarbone, and high cheekbones. Her left arm, from collar to fingertips was covered in an intricately tattooed pattern of feathers. The delicately inked design was interrupted just above her elbow by three deep slashes. Each of them long, jagged. Knife marks Daryl guessed. A similar mark marred the skin of her neck, stretching from behind her ear to her collarbone, shallower this time. This one looked newer. A scar on her right shoulder just above the spot Hershel currently worked on told him this wasn't the first time she'd been shot. A bullet graze. This girl clearly didn't have the best luck.

He saw Maggie glaring at him out of the corner of his eye and looked away at the wall, embarrassed at being caught gawking. The wallpaper seemed to mock him. A cartoon giraffe smiled stupidly at his embarrassment. He scowled back at it.

Hershel finally finished up, placing his scalpel down with the rest of his tools on the small coffee table they'd pulled next to the gurney. He cleared his throat and stepped back to stretch for a minute.

"All that's left is to cauterize the opening. I'll need a couple of you to hold her down." He announced and then went about sterilizing and heating the metal doorknob they would use to do it. It was the only unpainted metal they could find in the building that was large enough for the job and so it would have to do.

T-Dog joined Daryl at her head. Rick and a nervous Glenn took her legs.

_((o))_

The next few days were tense. The girl was in and out of consciousness and Hershel decided it was best to keep her heavily medicated. Everyone argued over how they would deal with her when she properly woke up. The only thing they could all agree on was cuffing her hands to the metal frame of the gurney. She had after all caused quite a bit of damage before Carl shot her.

Daryl never left her side.

On the second day he woke to the sound of coughing. He'd dozed off in chair next to her bed.

He stood to check on her, not actually expecting to find her eyes open, observing him hazily. The pain killers were working their magic.

"Water?" He asked. She nodded once, blinking tiredly. He picked up the water bottle on the coffee table and opened it, holding it to her lips. She accepted a small sip, drinking slowly, her eyes never leaving his.

"Fuck," She groaned as she pulled away from the bottle, coughing again, "that stupid little shit shot me, didn't he?" Daryl tried to suppress a grin but even in her inebriated state she caught it.

"Don't laugh! It's not funny! What is this fucking target practice? Do I look like a pincushion or something? Have you ever been shot? It fucking sucks!" She mumbled indignantly.

"I'm gonna kill that kid. He's never reaching puberty! Ya klyanus!"* Daryl laughed quietly at that but didn't say anything back.

She went quiet after that, laying her head back and glaring drunkenly at the ceiling. They sat in silence until suddenly she snapped out of her trance and turned her gaze on him again.

"Hey…" She said more solemnly, looking him straight in the eye.

He nodded in response, unsure.

"If you rape me, I will shoot you right in your dick hole." Any humor was immediately sucked from the room at her words. Daryl sobered, almost angry she would think it, but said nothing.

"I mean it. I will shoot your dick off. Don't test me son! I'll do it!" She threatened sleepily.

"I believe you." He bit back.

"You'll regret it. I have the clap… I have herpes… chlamydia… the aids… fuck it, I have all the stds. Every. Single. Last. One. All of them. So don't do it! Don't even think about it! I'll kill you! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" She finished in a yell, sapping the last of her strength. He should've found her whole tirade funny, but it only served to sober him further.

What happened to this girl? What happened to the world that a girl had to expect the worst of every new person she met?

"I promise, no funny business." He assured her sadly. Watching her exhaustion take over.

"I swear to sweet baby jesus, allah, buddha," she mumbled, drifting, "the spaghetti monster, the scientology monkey, whoever the fuck. Get the gist?"

"Loud and clear."

"You're picking up what I'm putting down?" She barely whispered, already half asleep.

"Yes."

"Super… now beam me up Scottie." With that she succumbed to her need for sleep.

Daryl settled back into the little chair by her bed to wait for the next bizarre outburst.

_*Laikas: Russian hunting dogs. Depending on the type they can resemble an Akita or a wolf. Specifically the ones in this story are Eastern Siberian Laikas, which are more on the wolfy side._

_*dedushka: grandfather_

__*Ya klyanus (я клянусь): I swear__

_Review? Pretty please?_


	3. Mary Poppin's Magic Carpet Bag

_Disclaimer: Bla, bla, I don't own anything, bla, bla._

_A/N: As always, thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to read my story. Also, I keep forgetting to mention it, but on my profile I have some links to pictures and stuff of my characters and the music I listened to while writing. Feel free to check that out. If you have questions, concerns, etc. please feel free to pm me._

_Also this chapter has a bit of 'colorful' language, so if you don't like that kind of thing…well don't read it…_

__Please enjoy. Even better, review!__

Lena woke to angry voices. They surrounded her, rankling her senses and demanded her attention. She tried to open her eyes but the lids, heavy with exhaustion, refused to cooperate. Through the cage of her long lashes she could vaguely make out shadows, outlines of the people standing around her.

Now conscious, her memories came rushing back with a vengeance. Her head pounded with the force of them, whatever pain meds she was on making her instantly nauseous.

She remembered the leaves, red and yellow. The dogs running toward her. The redneck with his sleeveless shirt, bloody and torn.

And the boy.

The one who shot her.

She could feel the pain in her shoulder now, feel it wrapped up tight. Someone had bandaged her wound. Perhaps she'd misjudged these people.

Well, not the boy.

The stupid boy with the gun and the too big hat, he could go fuck himself.

But besides him maybe they weren't so bad.

Why would they stitch her up if they meant her harm?

She could see the gaping holes in this logic but knew she didn't have any other options, so she decided to just roll with it.

Still unable to open her eyes fully, she tried instead to listen in on their conversation. They seemed completely unaware that she was awake, the voices only intensifying in volume and anger.

"You saw what she did to Glenn! She's dangerous!" A young woman's voice declared in outrage.

"She's just a scared kid. Times like this, you can't blame her. She doesn't know us. She didn't know if we were friendly or not. Now I'm sure she wasn't looking for a fight, just trying to survive." A man's voice rebuffed. He sounded tired, like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"If she wasn't looking for a fight then why did she come back?" Another woman asked expectantly. Lena vaguely recognized this voice but couldn't place it in her drug-induced stupor.

"Ain't it obvious? She came back for the mutts." She immediately knew the deep rasp, the southern twang. It was the redneck. His shadow was closest, as if guarding her.

"We don't know that for sure." The familiar woman countered irritably.

"Well what are we going to do with her?" Another woman, soft-spoken, asked.

"We're not going to _do_ anything, aside from help her get better and apologize. Then we let her decide what she wants to do." The tired man replied, resolute.

"Maybe she could help us." A young voice, a boy, piped up. The room went silent at the thought.

"She talks a lot in her sleep, in Spanish or something. She keeps saying names. Maybe they're her friends. I think she has a camp, somewhere safe with other people. Maybe she would let us come with her." The young voice continued, the hope in his voice palpable.

Lena mentally scoffed. Spanish? Really? She was almost offended.

"She's not going to be interested in helping us. She stole Daryl's weapons and hurt Glenn. What's stopping her from killing us in our sleep and taking our supplies?" The familiar woman said expectantly.

_How about a bullet wound._ Lena thought sarcastically.

"We can't trust her. The fact remains: she is dangerous. What are we going to do about it?" The familiar woman asked.

_Jeez!_ Lena thought_. _She couldn't believe these people saw her as such a threat. It kind of made her feel like a bad ass.

_Like Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider or some shit. _She mused, losing interest in the conversation momentarily.

If they had any idea what a spaz she truly was they wouldn't be so worried.

"We could just leave her here. Keep her handcuffed so she can't follow us. By the time she gets free she won't know which way we went." The soft-spoken woman suggested.

"What and make her cut her own hand off just like my brother? That what you want?" The redneck shouted angrily. His shadow moved closer, forming a barrier between her and the group.

He obviously wasn't a big fan of the idea.

Strange he would defend her after the outcome of their first meeting, but Lena wasn't complaining. At least someone was on her side, as far as not cutting off her own hand or some crazy shit like that.

_Wait, what!_ As that thought sunk in she decided she wasn't liking these people so much anymore.

"We are not leaving another person handcuffed and defenseless. It's not right!" The tired man declared, his gruff voice firm and unyielding.

"Rick, we can't afford to worry about—" The woman interjected.

"This isn't a discussion! I'm not leaving a defenseless kid to get picked off by walkers or _worse_. That's the end of it." Rick said, cutting her off.

"She's not our problem!" The woman yelled back.

"From what Daryl's told us, the only reason she went after Glenn in the first place is because he stood between her and getting away from Daryl." An older male's voice drawled from further down the hall in a clear attempt to diffuse the argument.

So the redneck's name was Daryl? Lena scoffed at that.

_Total redneck name._

She chuckled weakly at her own internal musings and realized only a beat too late that she'd given herself away. The bickering immediately ceased at the rusty sound of her laugh.

The jig was up.

She cracked an eye, finally in control of her basic faculties and found herself looking right at this Daryl. He stood over her with an amused look on his face, like he'd known she was awake the whole time.

"Can you blame me? I mean look at him, he's a scary looking mother fucker." Lena spoke up finally. Her voice sounded gravelly and rough to her own ears. The redneck shook his head but she saw the telltale sign of a smirk on his lips and it calmed her considerably.

Taking a quick survey of her surroundings she found that they were in a hallway. It had no windows save for the one at the entrance far down the hall.

Recognizing the awful cartoon zoo animals gracing the wallpaper she observed that they were back in the doctor's office.

Back where this whole mess started. Great.

She counted eight people within her sight, a mix of men and women. She certainly had misjudged them.

She looked back up at Daryl and found him watching her with careful understanding. He knew exactly what she was doing: sizing them up, planning her escape.

In that moment Lena knew, they were very much the same, the two of them.

She tried to lift a hand to scratch her forehead only to realize that her reach was inhibited. The cold clink of metal on metal met her ears. She looked down to see both of her wrists were handcuffed to the metal bed frame.

Trying not to panic she gave herself a quick once over and discovered, much to her absolute horror, that her shirt was gone. In fact the only thing protecting her modesty was a flimsy blue hospital gown and a yellowed old bed sheet.

For what felt like forever, no one said anything. They all watched Lena quietly, waiting to see how she would react.

"Well don't let me interrupt. I'd leave and give you guys some privacy but I seem to be… incapacitated." She bit sarcastically, inclining her chin at her wrists, bracing them against the cuffs angrily.

The screamy-mean woman opened and closed her mouth a few times, having the decency to look somewhat ashamed. She looked down at the ground, unable to look Lena in the eye.

"I'm sorry about the handcuffs. They were just a precaution…" The man, Rick said, stepping forward. He looked apologetic, but his police officer getup struck Lena as strange and slightly untrustworthy; a morbid joke juxtaposed against the background of the post-apocalyptic hell they now found themselves living in everyday. She sneered in reply.

"A precaution for what? So I don't fight back while you're _raping _me?" She accused, straining against her bonds.

"No! You don't understand—"

"I'd say I understand perfectly. I'm naked, handcuffed to a bed and I just woke up to you people plotting my demise. Sounds fairly straightforward to me. But please, continue, don't mind me…"

"If you can promise to stay calm and have a nice civilized conversation then maybe I can get those handcuffs off for you."

"Uh, how about you go fuck yourself? I don't have to promise you shit. Just because you walk around in that fucking uniform doesn't mean you get to tell me what to do. What're you gonna do? Write me a ticket? Make me spend the night in the tank? Have you taken a look around lately? Cut the shit. If you're going to kill me then get it over with." She ranted, struggling against the cuffs ineffectually. Her wrists were already chafed and red from her movements and she had only been awake for a few minutes. The outburst cost her a great deal of energy and she could feel the nausea creeping back up on her fast as the effects of the painkillers waned.

"It isn't like that. Honest. We're trying to make you better. You got shot." The young voice from earlier insisted.

Lena turned her icy glare toward the chair beside her bed and came face to face with the little freckled boy and his cowboy hat. He stared back at her expectantly.

Carl. Fucking Carl.

In his lap was a Nancy Drew novel and at his feet sat the two dumb mutts that had gotten her into this whole mess. They were completely content as the little boy petted their mangy heads.

Traitors.

She wanted to barf.

"No shit Dennis the menace. You should know. You're the one who pulled the trigger." She snarled.

"Don't you dare talk to my son that way!" The familiar woman snapped, coming to stand next to her son. Now Lena knew who she was. This was the lady she had seen screaming in the parking lot for Carl. The mother.

"Jesus lady, why don't you suck my big metaphorical—" Lena started but was cut off by the redneck clearing his throat and giving her a warning look. She glared back caustically but otherwise saw the wisdom in stopping while she was ahead.

"Whatever." She mumbled petulantly, continuing to glare at the dirty man that stood between her and the vultures.

Silence reigned once more as every one took a moment to assess the situation. But Lena quickly became irritated with this and let out what could only equate to a growl.

"Alright, I have to pee," She stated grumpily, "so are you guys gonna un-cuff me or is someone ready to clean piss stains out of these sheets?"

_((o))_

Once she'd finally calmed down enough Rick decided it was safe for them to take the handcuffs off and let Lena go to the bathroom. Lack of power, water, and flushing toilets in the building meant that she would have to do this outside. And of course the role of babysitter was relegated to Daryl because he seemed to be the only one who wanted to help her.

A want that was he fast rethinking.

Daryl pushed through the front door of the doctor's office, thankful at least to escape the terrible zoo-themed wallpaper, if only for a little while. With each day they remained here the terribly drawn cartoons felt more and more like some fucked up parallel for their screwed up lives. The smiling giraffe still drove him insane every time he walked by it. More than once he'd considered taking a knife to it but knew the group would treat him like a loon if they found out. Carol would be the worst, asking him about his _feelings_ and worrying about his _well-being. _He couldn't take much more of Carol's incessant mothering.

Impatient, he held the door wide open as Lena and her two goofy mutts followed after him. The dogs, who's names he'd found out were Sputnik and Stalin (Lena swore up and down that her crazy grandfather named them), saw a squirrel across the parking lot and bolted towards it. Daryl led the way in the same general direction, following their barking. Not missing a beat, Lena started in on him again.

"Are you seriously going to stand there and watch me pee?" Lena demanded, mortified at the prospect. She had never been one to be shy about her body, but she didn't know this guy. The idea of peeing in front of him didn't make her feel empowered or sexy in the slightest.

"'Fraid so." Daryl replied. He didn't exactly fancy the idea either but he still didn't trust this kid enough to turn his back on her. They'd argued about this over and over again for the past twenty minutes and Daryl's temper was fast getting the best of him.

"Why? It's not like I'm gonna pull a shiv out of my vag. It's not Mary Poppin's carpet bag down there." She insisted haughtily.

He pointedly ignored her.

Daryl didn't think it possible a woman as annoying as Lori or Maggie even existed. But this girl was certainly giving them a run for their money. She hadn't stopped pestering him since the moment she'd opened her eyes.

Reaching where the concrete gave way to the trees Lena had to quicken her stride just to keep up with him, nearly stumbling over protruding roots and undergrowth in her haste. They paused just a short way into the woods, the parking lot and the building still in sight. She leaned against the nearest tree to catch her breath and eyed him resentfully.

"Why couldn't one of those women do it?" She almost begged.

"They're all scared a' ya," He replied with a silent chuckle, "'Sides, do I really look that stupid?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is that a hypothetical question?" She replied innocently.

He grunted, eyes narrowed at her clear mockery of him but chose to ignore it.

The whole situation was making him incredibly uncomfortable. But he didn't want to give that away, knowing full well she would in some way use it to her advantage. He hiked the strap of his crossbow higher up on his shoulder and gave her an awkward nod of encouragement to do her business.

"Well get it over with will ya?" He tried to sound authoritative but the intent got tangled up with his nerves. She caught the slight strain in his voice instantly. He watched, powerless to stop them, as her dusky lips quirked in an evil, knowing smirk.

"In case you've failed to notice I'm crippled and require assistance." She stated, her tone acerbic but her words full of insinuation.

He had never strangled a woman before but right then he was weighing the pros and cons of it.

"Unless you've walked me out here just to have me piss my pants. Otherwise you'll have to help me." She continued quite proud of herself. She shifted her shoulder in the makeshift sling as if to make him more aware of the fact.

The sling was made from torn scraps of other old bed sheets they'd found in the office. These ones had little purple hippos on them. He tried to focus on the ridiculous cartoon hippos to keep from throttling her.

He gulped seeing the tattered black jeans she still wore under the hospital gown and realized he would indeed have to assist her and there was no way he was getting out of it.

"Well get it over with will you?" She mocked, throwing his words back at him.

Anger swelled in his chest at her words. He tried to remind himself that just two days ago he'd saved this girls life. It would all be for nothing if he strangled her to death, even if she was an obnoxious little brat.

Taking a deep calming breath he nodded and stepped toward her.

"Alright, turn 'round." He instructed, barely able to contain his frustration. He was almost proud of himself. He'd never been able to hold his temper in check for so long.

Lena froze. She hadn't expected him to actually take the bait. She thought he would just tell her to shut up and figure it out on her own. But now he was calling her bluff and she wasn't sure how to proceed. She hadn't thought that far ahead.

She fixed him with a glare but obeyed his command, turning slowly to face the tree she'd been leaning against.

Just like the night she'd been shot she felt him lean in close, his chest almost touching her back. From the corner of her eye she could see the outline of his nose, cheek, and tensed jaw. His breath was hot against her cheek and she could feel the heat radiating off him at every point where their bodies almost touched.

Again the adrenaline borne from their proximity set her skin afire until she reminded herself this wasn't some lover's caress. He was helping her go to the bathroom.

_Definitely not sexy._

_Queue the ice-cold bucket of water._

Unlike last time she felt two hands instead of one move around her hips and slide underneath the hospital gown. They came to rest just below her abdomen at the button of her jeans and she let go of the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The corner of his mouth turned up almost imperceptibly at the sound and she frowned in anger but held her tongue.

He undid the button with a flick of his thumb, the motion causing it to accidently brush against the secret soft skin of her belly. She jolted at the unexpected intimacy of the touch, immediately angry with herself for the show of weakness.

The turn of his mouth morphed into a full-blown smirk as he worked the zipper down.

She wasn't so talkative anymore. Daryl basked in the small victory, however fleeting it might be.

Were she not injured Lena would have elbowed him right in his stupid smug redneck face.

She mentally rebuked herself, knowing it was important to wait for the appropriate time to make her move, and this wasn't it. The thought helped to quell her anger. With it she stood a little taller, even as he worked the worn fabric down to her knees. The once tight black skinny jeans were now riddled with holes and saggy from weight loss and wear.

Daryl tried his best not to ogle her as he pulled the jeans down her legs. But he couldn't help but notice the hidden tattoos the removal of fabric revealed. In contrast to the feathered design he'd seen adorning her left arm, her right leg from hip to knee was decorated by rows and rows of scales of all shades. The design and execution of it all was truly remarkable. He couldn't pull his eyes away.

Lena turned to face him. He immediately looked down at the toes of his battered boots, embarrassed at being caught staring.

"I think I can handle the rest." She mumbled quietly, fingering the flimsy hospital gown nervously. She tugged on the ends trying to pull them farther down to cover more of her legs, hiding the simple black cotton of her underthings. The snarky girl from earlier completely vanished.

The girl before him was once again the vulnerable girl who'd bled in his arms just two nights ago. The one he'd held close in the dark forest and promised to keep safe.

He was instantly ashamed of himself. He felt like such a pervert. No wonder this kid didn't trust them. He felt horrible.

Forgoing his better judgment Daryl nodded sullenly and turned his back, wanting to give her at least this small privacy.

"Thank you," her voice offered meekly, "I mean, for this and for… for saving me."

"It was the right thing to do." He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he waited.

"And if it makes any difference, I'm really sorry." She said.

"S'alright, no harm no foul." He replied getting uncomfortable again. He'd never been good at talking to women. Talking to them while they were peeing was way out of his comfort zone. He shifted awkwardly, trying to block out any noises that might make him even more uncomfortable.

"Great, that makes me feel a lot better about this." Before he could even comprehend what was happening he felt her hand come down hard in a karate chop motion at the point where his neck and shoulder met. The blow, although small, caused him to instantly crumple to the ground, temporarily paralyzed.

He stared up at the sky unable to move and knew that once again, he'd been had.

Lena's face was one of absolute shock looming over him.

"Holy shit I am so sorry! I totally didn't think that would actually work." She exclaimed with a giddy laugh. She knelt at his side and pulled the crossbow and the bag of bolts from his shoulder and shrugged them over her bum arm.

"I thought that move was like an urban myth." She said, staring at her hand as if it held the answers to the universe.

She whistled loud for the dogs. The two bulky mutts abandoned the squirrel they'd chased up a tree and ran to her, yipping eagerly.

"Man I miss my cellphone," She reminisced excitedly, "I would've tweeted the shit out of a video of that. We could've been internet famous!" She said more to herself than to him. She shook herself from her reverie and looked down at Daryl lying stiff as a board. She wasn't sure of how long he would stay that way. She had to get moving.

"I'm sorry Daryl. No hard feelings okay? It's just that the loud screamy lady clearly wants me dead for some reason and from what I can tell pussy reigns supreme in this group so even if you guys say no now eventually you're gonna say yes because she'll bitch about it until you're all tired of hearing about it so you'll do it just to shut her up—" She gasped running out of breath from all her frantic rambling.

Turning serious she looked into his eyes, willing him to understand.

"I don't want to die." She finished, resolute.

"Oh and if it's any consolation, before all this, I would've banged the shit out of you." She added randomly, ruining her previous solemnity. His thoughts went to the gutter for a second, his brain turned to mush at her declaration. But it was short-lived when he saw those purple hippos on her sling, mocking him. Blind rage owned his every thought now.

"Stay classy redneck." She said, patting his cheek in an awkward attempt at affection. She pushed to her feet and made a clicking noise with her teeth and tongue, alerting the dogs that it was time to go.

They began walking east Daryl observed as her form slipped out of his peripheral vision.

Right then and there Daryl vowed to go after her as soon as he was able. If not to strangle her than at least to get his crossbow back.

_Please comment (it will make me oh so happy!). Kthxbye._


	4. No More Mister Nice Redneck

_**A/N:** I know. I know. I take forever to update. My apologies, I just got a little stuck on the details. I'm trying to change things up a bit. I got a great piece of advice from **the-lights-there** about Lena's character development and the dangers of becoming a mary-sue. I'll be honest, I hadn't the foggiest what that meant. I had to google it. But now I know and knowing is half the battle. The other half is hammering out my plot points and grammatical errors. I'm really excited for the new direction I've decided to take for Lena as a result and I hope you guys will like it too. Once again thank you so much the-lights-there. You're a lifesaver!_

_Also I'll just quickly mention that I've condensed some of the earlier chapters (combining some of them together). I don't know why I felt the need to to this but it felt more organized. So don't panic that there only 4 chapters now and not 7. It's all still there, just retouched and less scatterbrained._

_As always a big thanks to all the lovely folks who take the time to read this story. You're all saints for being so patient with me. **Eloquent Dreams, Jezebella Corvus, Amanda, Daliah, Anne Toinette, Issy, Niffer01, Amaya Dixon** and anyone I might've forgotten. Thank you for your reviews, they mean so much to me and I truly appreciate it._

_And now without further ado, here is the update. Enjoy and please let me know what you think._

The van seemed much farther away than Lena remembered.

Of course she had to take into consideration the fact that she was injured and far less nimble than when she'd first left the mini van. In her current condition crossing the street, much less walking half a mile of it, was an exhausting and time-consuming prospect.

It was high noon by the time they finally reached the mint green mini van. The sun beat down upon Lena and her dedushka's laikas, its rays unforgiving as they traversed the last stretch of road.

Tongues wagging with sweat, the giant dogs followed Lena closely, extremely mindful of her weakened state. However, upon seeing the familiar vehicle, Sputnik, the larger of the two, trotted ahead. Stalin sprinted after him, Lena's injuries completely forgotten. Both were eager to claim the front seat and by proxy the coveted window spot.

Lena rolled her eyes at their antics but made no attempt to quicken her stride.

The effects of whatever painkillers Daryl and his group had given her had long since worn off. The pain in her shoulder now pulsed through her entire body unabated.

Oblivious, the dogs watched her progress with mounting anticipation, all the while nudging and nipping at each other, jockeying for position in front of the passenger door.

She grumbled irritably at how carefree the furry beasts were in comparison to her own irritable mood and fast deteriorating strength.

Lena was feeling far from carefree.

Sweat poured from her every pore. The flimsy hospital gown was soaked through and the paper lining of its armholes had begun to deteriorate. The makeshift sling rubbed the old scar at the side of her neck raw. The friction of sweat and starched cotton dug into the delicate skin with each step. Each shift of her shoulders was fast becoming unbearable.

In short, she was miserable and the god awful purple hippo print on the sling wasn't helping.

She watched, somewhat envious as Sputnik's tongue lolled lazily from the side of his mouth, working to cool his body temperature. She wondered which would be preferable: sweating from every pore in her body or only from her tongue?

Sputnik then leaned down to lick at his privates and she decided that in no way did she envy that particular aspect of their biology. Especially if it meant forever having the lingering taste of sweat _and balls_ on the back of your tongue.

She shook her head in disgust and continued walking.

Just a few feet from the van Lena stopped dead. Once again she was struck with the realization that she had left something behind.

Something important.

The keys to the van.

In her pack.

A pack she was almost positive had been commandeered and pilfered through whilst she was comatose. It had been the farthest thing from her mind upon escaping (again). There hadn't exactly been much time to plan beyond the karate-chop thing. She'd never expected for it to work.

"Fuck," She mumbled, kicking at a solitary rock with the toe of her ratty old boot.

Sputnik came to sit in front of her, the window seat temporarily forgotten, and observed her thoughtfully. Stalin barked excitedly in response to her curse, pushing his bulky brown body against her thigh for attention. She sighed and patted his head.

"What do I do now?" She wondered aloud. She could feel the sun-soaked pavement heating the soles of her boots and it made her irrationally cranky. Again she kicked the small rock, harder this time, sending it into the woods with a soft thump.

Stalin barked again, looking up at her happily. He moved back towards the passenger door, taking advantage of Sputnik's sudden lack of interest.

One-track mind.

Again she rolled her eyes but moved toward the van, Sputnik prancing at her heels. Much to the dogs' chagrin though she bypassed the passenger door. Instead she opened the sliding back door and ushered them in. Any disappointment at being denied the front seat was forgotten in favor of fighting over the middle bench.

She closed the door after them and hobbled to the driver's side. She did a quick survey of her surroundings. When she was satisfied that there was no one, dead or alive, around, she opened the door and plopped down in the seat. The clumsy motion jostled her shoulder, sending a particularly painful jolt through her side. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out.

More wary of her shoulder this time, she carefully placed the crossbow between the front seats. She grimaced at the steering wheel for a few seconds, completely at a loss.

Scanning her memory Lena tried to think of every movie she'd ever seen someone hotwire a car in but came up blank. The only memorable films involved clipping a red or blue wire. She was almost positive such a scenario had absolutely nothing to do with cars.

Digging deeper still the only relevant thing she could remember was how, in almost every movie, they had to go under the steering wheel and open something up. This in mind she ducked underneath the console and struggled with her one good arm for a few minutes, finally prying open the plastic covering to reveal the guts of the car: a mess of wires and nobs that left her even more confused than before.

"God I miss the internet." She huffed dramatically.

She had a hunch that a crowbar was required for some part of the procedure. And perhaps the red and blue wires were relevant after all?

Less than twenty minutes later Lena was already giving up, fairly certain she'd in fact ruined her chances of starting the car by cutting every wire in sight. Not the most intelligent tactic she realized belatedly, but it only seemed fair to cut all the blue wires in retaliation for all the poor red ones.

_Hindsight is 20/20._

Dropping her head to the steering wheel Lena heaved a long breath and considered her remaining options.

Option 1: Walk back to the truck she'd stolen from Daryl the redneck and his friendly gang and left in a trailer park.

_(This option was bound for failure/death because she was very likely to run into dead people on the way. Not only was she not in the mood for dead people, but she was also undoubtably incapable of dealing with dead people at the moment. She also had absolutely no idea how the crossbow worked. She'd mostly taken it from Daryl on principle.)_

Option 2: Walk back to base.

_(Walking back to base was just not going to happen. It was too far away and she was too weak to ever make it.)_

That left only:

Option 3. Walk back to the doctor's office, say sorry to Daryl the furious redneck and his friendly gang that wanted to kill her, and pray to god they don't shoot her again.

Really they were all terrible ideas because they all involved more walking and a lot of it. Lena was all walked out.

She groaned and banged her head on the steering wheel a few more times for good measure, angry at herself for being so stupid.

The passenger door opened suddenly.

Lena merely looked over, too shocked and tired to react properly. She imagined it was Daryl come to kill her at last and was moderately resigned to the possibility.

To her surprise it was not Daryl that met her gaze.

It was Carl.

He sat down next to her and closed the door, flicking the lock. The car meeped in response, all of the locks engaging as a result.

Lena stared at him dumbly.

He removed his too big hat and placed it in his lap then turned to assess her.

"You have got to be shitting me right now." She blurt out, unable to think of anything better to say.

"What are you doing?" The little boy asked, as if the situation weren't at all unusual.

"Trying to get the fuck away from you people. Why can't you just leave me alone?" She demanded. It angered her how candid he was being.

_This cannot be real_ she thought. _Maybe I'm just imagining him_.

She considered poking him to prove her theory but thought better of it. With the way her luck was going he was definitely real.

"We need your help. We lost our home to a really big herd of walkers and we have no where left to go."

Lena was hardly listening. All she could think about was this idiot kid's face on the back of a milk carton with the words _'Have you seen me?'_ stamped over his head. She couldn't fathom how he was still alive when so many others weren't.

"Where is your mom?" She asked, interrupting him. He shrugged in response.

"Can I ask you something?" She queried, pinching the bridge of her nose. She saw his head move up and down in her peripheral.

"Has your mother ever told you to go play in traffic?" Lena said sarcastically, her patience flagging.

Not waiting for an answer, she leaned over him and opened the glove box, pulling out an old pack of Marlboros. One of many she hid all over the place nowadays. It was her bizarre version of a scavenger hunt. A psuedo-game she'd come up with knowing that eventually she would run out of cigarettes and have to quit. There was only one lonely cigarette left inside. The lucky.

_Not so lucky. _She scoffed

"Why would she tell me to do something crazy like that?" He replied, confused.

They stared at each other a moment.

"No reason." She grabbed a matchbook from the cup holder and lit the 'lucky' cigarette, thankful for the temporary calm the first drag of smoke brought her. Her shoulder still ached. She pretended not to feel it.

"You know smoking is bad for you." He observed.

"Alright, for serious kid, get the fuck out of my van." Lena instructed dismissively. Taking her eyes off him she shook off the dead ashes at the tip of the cigarette into the cup holder.

"Out!" She said a little louder.

The longer he sat there the more likely he was to stay.

The longer he stayed the more likely the redneck or Carl's crazy mom found them and tried to kill her.

Carl still hadn't moved and Lena started getting nervous. She would never use the crossbow on him (_no matter how obnoxious he was, he was still just a kid_) but she was too weak to physically force him out. She didn't stand a chance if someone from his group found them.

"Out! Go home!" She repeated even louder, becoming frantic. Not even halfway through she snubbed her cigarette out in the cup holder, too stressed out to bother finishing it.

_Not so lucky._

"I just told you, we don't have a home. It's gone. Overrun. We need you. Please?" Carl argued desperately. The dogs could sense the tension building and were becoming restless. Stalin let out a nervous whimper. Sputnik shifted beside him.

"I can't help you." Lena almost yelled.

"Why not?" He pushed. Stalin's whimpers turned into barks, hearing the panic in Lena's voice

"I just can't!" She pounded her fist on the steering wheel for emphasis.

"Why?" Carl yelled back. Stalin resorted to howling in an attempt to overpower them.

"тише!" Lena hollered over her shoulder. The howling ceased immediately at her firm command. She glared at the young dog. Stalin jumped into the backseat to hide.

Lena turned the glare on Carl hoping it might have a similar effect.

"Okay, seriously kid. First you try to kill me, then your mother tries to rally the pitchfork committee to finish the job, and now you want me to go back and see if the third time really is the charm? No, it's not happening. Get out."

"Please, I'll do anything! I'm sorry I shot you. I thought you were going to hurt Daryl. And my mom is just trying to protect us. They're just scared. They weren't sure about you—" He rambled, becoming as frantic as Lena. His eyes begun to well up with tears. At the sight her resolve started to crack. She groaned and bounced her head on the steering wheel again, trying to drown him out.

"Damn it kid—" She hissed, wanting to cut him off.

"My mom is pregnant." He finished overtop of her. Her head shot back up at his declaration. She stared at him, mouth open in shock. Carl stared back, eyes pleading.

**_MEANWHILE_**

"Daryl?" Carol called out.

Her heart stopped at the sight of him lying stock still on the forest floor. She ran toward him.

"Daryl? Oh my god!" She dropped to her knees at his side. Barely noticeable his chest moved up and down with each shallow breath. His eyes were open, blinking rapidly, but he lay unmoving. Carol put a hand to his cheek and found it warm to the touch.

It had been almost twenty minutes since he'd taken the girl outside.

Carol knew something was wrong.

No one else seemed to care what she thought though. And Daryl never listened when she told him to be careful. Worse still none of the others were terribly worried about his wellbeing either.

As soon as he and that girl walked out the front door she'd gotten a bad feeling deep in her bones.

She was the only one to sense it and decided to go check on him. Much to her horror she discovered that once again her instincts had been correct.

"What happened? Daryl? Can you hear me? Can you get up?" She worried, close to tears. She'd already lost her baby girl. They couldn't take Daryl from her too. It just wasn't fair!

His eyes roved over her but his body remained still, stiff as a board. She touched his shoulder and shook it gently. She tried to lift his torso up to lean against her. The weight of him hampered her efforts but her touch seemed to help him regain some movement.

Ever so slowly he craned his neck to look at her. She sighed in relief and pulled his body toward her so that the upper half rested on her lap. She cradled his head in her hands, unaware of the tears that streaked her face.

"What happened?" She asked again with a sniffle. He worked hard to answer her, shaking out his wrists and then his arms in order to wake the sleeping limbs. He pretended not to notice the wet lines running down her cheeks. The blatant show of emotion made him uncomfortable.

"Turned my back." He said slowly. He looked away from her face, directing all of his focus on flexing his feet. First one foot and then the other.

"She did some kind of voodoo karate shit on my neck," He turned his head, cracking his neck, "went down like a felled tree." He grunted, his neck popping a few more times.

"Lori said it Daryl," Carol condescended, "she could have hurt you."

"Couldna hurt me. She's got a bum arm. Just a dumb kid." Daryl snapped.

Carol could tell his pride was wounded. The 'dumb kid' had in fact bested him despite her handicap. She refrained from pointing it out though, not wanting to embarrass him. She was just grateful he was okay. It could have been much worse.

"Well I guess it's good she's gone then. We don't have to worry about her anymore." Carol insisted, kneading his shoulders in a comforting gesture.

Daryl grumbled irritably in response. He pushed away her fussing hands and slowly stood up.

If she was hurt by his attempt to brush her off she didn't let it show. She watched him quietly from her place on the ground, trying to figure him out. Sometimes he was impossible to understand, far more complicated than the others ever gave him credit for.

He brushed the dirt off his pants and turned to offer Carol his hand. She took it bashfully, suddenly very aware of her tears and red cheeks. He pulled her to her feet with a mumbled _thank you_. She nodded and wiped furiously at her damp cheeks with a wilted sleeve, ashamed of herself for always being so weepy around him.

Without any further explanation he turned and started walking east, away from the building. Carol stood still, confused.

"Where are you going?" She called after him.

"After her." Daryl replied without stopping or looking back.

"Daryl! Don't be ridiculous! You can't give someone your help if they don't want it." She jogged after him, trying to catch up.

"Don't wanna help her anymore. I want my damn crossbow back."

_тише (tishe): quiet_

_Review, pretty please with a crossbow on top?_


	5. Scarier than a Japanese Horror Flick

**A/N:** _This writing stuff is hard. I'm taking summer classes so I haven't had as much free time as I thought I would but here it is: the new chapter. Thanks for being patient with me. Thanks to everyone who reads this silly story and takes the time to review and give me advice. It warms my black heart. And I promise Daryl will get his crossbow back... eventually. (*insert evil laughter here*)_

_This chapter is a tad gory and has some very colorful language (as always). So beware._

_Please enjoy and let me know what you think!_

Carl had a shit-eating grin on his face the entire walk back.

He was creepy to begin with. The grinning only intensified the fact.

He reminded Lena of a Japanese horror flick she once saw. The one with the kid crawling out of the TV in a disturbing tangle of limbs. She couldn't remember the name of it but could picture in vivid detail Carl in place of the girl, breaking through that fourth wall, (the television screen) and reaching out for her.

The image made her skin crawl.

_Hell, he was like every kid _ever_ in any Japanese horror movie. _She thought, giving him a sidelong glance. He was still grinning. She briefly considered strangling him with her purple-hippo-printed sling but didn't have the energy to even take it off.

"Wipe that smirk off your face kid. You're starting to piss me off." Lena growled almost tripping over Sputnik when the big dog stopped abruptly to sniff something. Stalin was farther ahead, chasing after anything that moved.

"I can't help it. I'm happy. I knew you would help us. I knew you were good. I told them." He replied. Aware that she was in pain he slowed his pace so that she could keep up. Lena's glare intensified.

"You don't know that. I haven't forgotten that you _shot me_. I might still leave." She snipped caustically.

"You won't." He said, sure of himself.

Stopping to catch her breath, Lena pressed a hand to the nearest tree to brace her weight. She shifted her shoulders to try and alleviate some of the discomfort caused by the makeshift sling. Where the stiff fabric brushed against her neck the skin was inflamed, the scar tissue raised and bright pink.

"What makes you so sure?" She challenged, irritated.

Carl moved to stand in front of her. From his pocket he produced a set of keys and dangled them in front of her face.

"Because. I have your keys." He taunted, pulling them back, just out of her reach. She huffed indignantly but made no move to try and take them. She pushed away from the tree and began walking again.

"Not like it matters. I don't think the car will turn on now anyway." She admitted grudgingly, recalling the messy tangle of torn up wires.

Carl moved back to her side, replacing the keys in his pocket, his grin more prevalent than before. Lena tried to ignore him, focusing instead on making sure she didn't trip over anything and injure herself even more.

The silence was short-lived.

"Why did you hit Daryl and run away?" Carl asked suddenly, breaking Lena's concentration. "He wants to help you. At least he did."

"Yeah well, your mom doesn't." Lena countered.

"She'll come around. She's just scared because of the baby." He tried to assure her.

She made a face at him but chose not to respond.

_Scared,_ she scoffed, _I don't think that's the word for it._

The sound of gunshots stopped them in their tracks. Stalin and Sputnik circled back and sat in front of Lena. They sensed her uneasiness and waited quietly for instruction. Unconsciously, Carl moved closer seeking protection.

They looked at each other, both unsure of what to do.

"You still have that gun Dennis the Menace?" Lena asked, her voice low.

"It's Carl. And yes. Why?" He replied, suspicious.

Lena made a mental note to tear into his mother about her parenting skills (_or lack thereof_) the next time she saw her. Why in the world would anyone let a trigger happy ten-year-old run around with a gun? Couldn't they just give him a slingshot and call it a day?

"Just give it to me." She demanded, stowing her frustrations away for later.

"Why?"

"Because, if the fact that I'm still alive is any indication, you can't aim for shit. And I get the feeling we can't afford for you to miss right now. Hand it over." She held out her hand impatiently.

"What about the crossbow?"

"I don't know how to use it." She admitted, resentful.

"I think I've only got one bullet left—"

"That's okay, we'll improvise." She insisted impatiently. "Come on! We haven't got all day!"

Reluctant, Carl pulled the small gun from the waistband of his jeans. He hesitated upon handing it to her.

"But you're arm—" He insisted.

"What about it? I only need one to shoot a damn gun. Now give it!" She snatched the weapon from his grasp and quickly checked the chamber. He was right. There was only one bullet left.

Carl gave her an uneasy look as more gunshots went off in the distance.

"It's fine. They're probably just… practicing." She finished lamely. His eyebrows rose skeptically at the blatant lie but he didn't comment.

"Obviously _some_ of you need the practice." She mumbled sarcastically. Again he was quiet, irritated with her attempt at humor.

The two dogs still sat quietly, watching Lena with rapt attention.

"медленно." She instructed with a tilt of her head. The simple command brought the furry beasts to their feet immediately. At a steady pace they trotted ahead, toward the sounds of gunfire. Jogging awkwardly, Lena did her best to keep up. She hugged her good arm around her injured shoulder tight, trying to ease the pain. It was steadily getting worse. She did her best to ignore it.

Carl ran after her, passing her easily. He was trying to catch up to the dogs, barely visible ahead as they picked through the forest, spreading out to cover more ground.

"No kid. Stay with me. We don't know what's going on yet." She admonished, huffing and puffing, her exhaustion tangible. He begrudgingly obeyed and slowed so she could catch up again.

When the building came into view they stopped. The dogs had reached the edge of the parking lot.

"Стой." She barked, causing both dogs to stop and double back. They came to stand close to Lena, their bodies vibrating visibly with pent up excitement as they waited for her next instructions. With her good arm she pulled Carl behind the bushes to hide. Belatedly she realized this was the exact spot he'd shot her in just a few days before. She almost laughed at the irony of it.

More gunshots went off, much louder this time. Much closer. Peaking over the bushes she could see walkers spilling out of the woods on the other side of the parking lot. The police officer and the doctor were shooting as many as they could but the walkers just kept coming. The dogs watched the commotion, eyes alight with excitement. Stalin growled low.

"Тише." Lena shushed, quieting him.

She glanced over at Carl and leaned her back against the tree next to him.

"Do you have more bullets?"

"Yeah I think so—" He replied, apprehensive.

"Do you know where they are?" Lena prodded.

"Yeah. In the building—"

"Good." She huffed, "Do you know where my gun is? My ammo?"

"In the building—" He repeated.

"Awesome, because that's where you're going. Get the bullets and the gun. And for god's sake do it fast." She moved to go but he stopped her.

"What about you?" He asked, scared.

"I'm gonna go help your old man and the doc." She told him. His eyes widened, clearly upset by the idea that his father might be in trouble.

"They're gonna be just fine." She assured him "Don't worry kiddo. Just get me those bullets. I can't help them if I don't have bullets."

He nodded solemnly.

"Alright, lets do this." She breathed, steeling her nerves. She moved around the tree and walked into the parking lot, Carl fast at her side. The dogs followed close at their heels.

"получить!"Lena commanded. The dogs sprung into action, running into the fray.

Sputnik went straight for the tree line at the other side of the lot where the walkers were coming from. He barked, earning the attention of a few stragglers. He trotted away, taunting the mindless dead, distracting them from the rest of the herd. They disappeared behind the building and Lena turned her focus on Stalin as he went for the group of walkers surrounding Rick and Hershel.

"Stalin, налево!" Lena instructed. Stalin immediately veered left, circling five and separating them from the rest of the pack. Confused, the dead spun around as quickly as they could, trying to keep up with the agile dog. The movement caused a few of them to lose balance and topple over. The rest stumbled after the excited animal, reaching out for him hungrily. Stalin snapped his teeth and barked, jumping just barely out of reach every time. Grateful for the distraction, Rick and Hershel made short work of the fallen.

Sputnik came sprinting back and repeated his actions, distracting another two away from the group and taking off toward the back of the building, barking excitedly the whole way.

Now that the herd had thinned a little Lena turned to Carl and nodded, letting him know that it was safe.

"Run kid, I'll cover you!" Lena instructed. Carl tore off for the front door. Lena watched carefully, making sure no walkers followed him. Just as Carl opened the door Glenn emerged, a baseball bat (_the one from Lena's pack in fact!_) clutched tightly in both hands. Carl slid past in a hurry, no time for pleasantries.

The action barely registered with Glenn, who continued on a mission of his own, running out into the parking lot to assist Hershel and Rick. Upon seeing Lena he was somewhat startled but seemed to decide that for the time being she was not the number one threat and so went about his business, bludgeoning the first zombie to approach him.

Once again Sputnik reappeared, running back toward the trees to lead another cluster of walkers away. This time he was followed by the stocky black man Lena had seen with Rick and the screaming woman (Lori) the night she'd been shot. He held a crowbar in one hand and a pistol in the other, shooting at a few of the zombies Sputnik was barking at.

"Sput, направо! Направо! Быстро!"She shouted as another large cluster of dead emerged on the far right of the parking lot. Ever fearless, Sputnik headed straight for them. Needing no further instruction he circled the group, causing a few of them to fall. The stocky man shot the ones that didn't and when he ran out of bullets made use of the crowbar. Glenn ran over to assist him, taking out a tall man in torn and bloodied flannel pajamas on the way.

Rick and Hershel took out another two with Stalin's help. The hyper dog moved to cut off a third that was stumbling toward Lena. The young dog snapped his teeth close at its knees in an attempt to scare it off.

Lena looked back and forth between the dogs and the door frantically, begging Carl to hurry. She didn't want to use the one bullet and be stuck without any protection. Watching Stalin get closer and closer to the zombie though was making her very nervous. She feared for his safety as well as her own.

"не трогай!" She yelled, her heart skipping a beat when the zombie Stalin was 'playing' with took a swipe at the dog that was much too close for comfort. Unable to watch anymore she shot the gun, sending the last bullet clean through the walker's skull, just as the mutilated corpse almost caught hold of Stalin.

"получить."She told the young dog, sending him racing back into the melee, happy as can be, as if he hadn't almost become zombie food.

Lena let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Just as she turned to look back at the door, in search of Carl, something shoved her to the ground. The force of it knocked the wind out of her and sent a stabbing pain through her shoulder. Something heavy fell on top of her, pressing her hard into the concrete. She flailed wildly, pushing at the cold hands that grasped at her flimsy hospital gown, now in tatters. A female walker missing her jawbone clawed at Lena's bandaged arm. Her dead fingers twisted painfully in Lena's tangled curls, pulling her closer. Lena felt the hot sting of hair being ripped from her scalp as she managed to shove the woman off and crawl away, kicking at her greedy hands.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" Lena screamed, kicking as hard as she could at the woman's ruined face. Still the woman reached for her, grabbing hold of Lena's worn boot when she went for another kick. The crossbow dug into her shoulder painfully, as if reminding her of its existence. Still kicking, Lena managed to pull the strap over her head and aim the crossbow at the woman's forehead. She pulled what she could only assume to be the trigger and braced herself for the blowback.

Nothing happened.

"Why!" She yelled still trying to kick the woman's probing hands away. She tried once more to pull the trigger. Still nothing. Without thinking about it Lena instead used the broad side of the crossbow to bash the woman's head in.

The dead woman's skull was brittle and cracked easily. Blood spattered everywhere, covering Lena's face, the flimsy hospital gown and the purple hippo sling.

Finally the woman's corpse stilled. Lena cried out in relief and sat up slowly, gasping for air.

"Just as effective." She mumbled, dropping the bloodied crossbow next to her.

She had no time to recover.

Already another walker was stumbling toward her. Lena scrambled to stand and defend herself. Before the dead man could reach her, a shot rang out and he crumpled to the concrete.

Carl.

He'd returned. He ran to Lena and helped her to stand. When he was sure she was balanced he gave back her gun and a handful of bullets. She took them, hands shaking, and stuffed the bullets in her back pocket. Carl bent to pick up his own gun, which Lena had dropped during her scuffle with the jawless woman.

"Took you long enough." Lena breathed, still in shock.

"At least I didn't miss that time." He replied. Lena was too shaken to offer a snide remark in return.

She surveyed the parking lot. Rick the police officer and the other men were taking care of the last few walkers. It looked like the worst of it was over. Stalin and Sputnik were circling the scene restlessly, unsure of what to do with themselves now that there were no more zombies left for them to taunt.

"будет." Lena called out, her final command. The wolf-like beasts relaxed and trotted toward her, panting heavily. As soon as he reached her Sputnik laid down, exposing his tan belly. Lena patted him gently. She turned to Stalin when pushed his muzzle into her side.

"хорошо, дайте мне посмотреть." She sighed, quickly checking his back and legs for bites or scratches. He seemed unharmed, thankfully. Glenn came to stand next to Carl, dropping the bloodied bat with an exhausted groan.

"That was freaking awesome! How did you teach them how to do that?" Glenn exclaimed.

Lena shrugged, patting the dog's bulky shoulder absent-mindedly.

T-Dog, Hershel and Rick moved toward them, finished with the last walkers. They seemed cautious, still unsure of this new girl and what she was capable of. Sensing their uneasiness Carl stepped closer to Lena as if to defend her.

"He's right," Rick spoke up, "that was amazing, we'd all be dead right now if it weren't for you and those dogs."

Carl was beaming. He met Lena's gaze, the look on his face clearly saying _I told you so_.

"I told you she could help us dad." Carl boasted.

"You sure did. You were right." Rick agreed, eying Lena carefully.

Her scuffle with the female walker had left Lena even more banged up than before. She could feel a sore spot where her hair had been ripped out. It tingled hot, blood matted up in the hair surrounding the area. Both of her elbows were skinned and bleeding. The hospital gown was ripped completely open in the back and hung by a single thread at one shoulder, barely covering her chest. She looked awful.

The metallic smell of her own blood mixed with the putrid dried zombie blood all over her face made her stomach churn and her head swim.

"Are you alright?" The doctor asked, stepping forward.

"I've been better." She quipped, swaying slightly. The men all looked at each other uneasily. Hershel took another step closer.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, cautious.

Lena rolled her eyes, "I wasn't bitten if that's what you're asking," she scoffed, "the bitch just pulled my hair." She explained, leaning her head down to show them the bald patch.

"Good. Well, why don't we sit you don't and let me have a look at you? You look like you could use some rest." Hershel offered, his voice soft, soothing.

"I'm jelly. I'll sleep when I'm dead." Lena replied, steadying herself. Hershel looked at her like she was crazy.

"We aren't safe here." Lena explained, "We have to leave_ now_ while it's still light out."

"We?" Rick asked, confused. Carl took the opportunity to speak up.

"Yeah, we. She's gonna help us dad! She said we could go with her." He declared proud of himself.

"Go where?" Rick wondered, glancing at Lena.

"My base. It's a couple hours away from here. There's plenty of room and you're more than welcome. But if you're coming we have to leave now. It's not safe here anymore." Lena clarified. She kept scanning the trees around them for the slightest movement, getting impatient. Rick and Hershel shared a look, something akin to relief clear on both their faces. Glenn and T-Dog still looked skeptical, but intrigued by the idea.

Now that the sound of gunfire had stopped, the women, who had been hiding inside the building, finally came out. Lori headed the group. She walked fast, making a beeline for Lena. Carol, Maggie and Beth lagged behind. Upon reaching the girl Lori pulled Carl behind her and revealed the gun she'd been hiding behind her back. She pressed the barrel to Lena's temple before anyone could move to stop her.

"Lori, what are you doing!" Rick shouted, moving toward her. Lori loaded a round into the chamber and he froze, raising his arms in surrender. "She just saved us!" He exclaimed.

"She kidnapped our son! She attacked Daryl and left him for dead and she kidnapped our son! She kidnapped him!" Lori screamed, outraged. She held the gun firmly with both hands. Her arms shook with the force of her anger. No one tried to get closer, afraid of startling her and ending up on the other side of the gun themselves.

"I did not kidnap your asshole son." Lena yelled back. She had the audacity to roll her eyes, too worn out to be afraid anymore.

"Hey!" Carl interjected.

"He followed me. And why the hell would I come back if I kidnapped him? That makes absolutely no sense." Lena spat, glaring at Lori out of the corner of her eye.

"Lori, just put the gun down, we need to talk about this." Rick added trying to calm is frantic wife.

"Talk? That's all you ever do. Think and talk. Enough thinking. Enough talking. It doesn't get us anywhere. It's time someone actually _did_ something! If you're not going to protect our son, our unborn baby, then I will." Lori responded with a sneer.

Lori prodded the side of Lena's face with the barrel of the gun threateningly. The action set Lena off balance. She swayed dangerously. Hershel stepped forward to grab her before she could fall.

"Mom." Carl said, pulling at the back of Lori's shirt, interrupting her feverish tirade.

"Stop mom. She's here to help us and you're ruining it." He told her, his eyes sad, disappointed. "Stop."

Lori's eyes widened at his words and she seemed to deflate, her shoulders slumping. She lowered the gun and Rick immediately moved to snatch it from her. Carl managed to squeeze in between her and Lena, forcing Lori to take a step back. She pressed a hand to her mouth and turned her back on the group as she choked back a sob.

**LATER**

With little discussion the group agreed to take Lena up on her offer, having nothing left to lose by doing so.

Daryl still hadn't returned. Carol paced anxiously at the edge of the woods waiting for him while the rest packed the cars and siphoned gas from the other abandoned cars in the lot. Lori kept her distance from the group, lost in her own thoughts. They all watched her uneasily; afraid she might snap at any moment.

Hershel tried to convince Lena to sit and rest while they packed but she would have none of it. She found an empty fuel container in the trunk of an old VW beetle and put herself to work collecting gas. Stalin and Sputnik were lying on the concrete resting, their tongues still wagging with the heat.

She was crouched next to the bright yellow vehicle trying to pry open the gas nob when a shadow fell over her. She put a hand over her eyes and squinted against the bright light of the sun at the figure towering over her.

Daryl glared daggers back.

"We really have to stop meeting like this." She quipped, smiling at him warily.

He did not smile back.

...

_налево (naleva): left_

_направо (naprava): right_

_медленно (myedlena): slowly_

_получить (poloochit): fetch/get_

_не трогай (ne tragoi): get away/don't touch_

_будет (boodit): that will do/stop/that's all_

_Стой (stoi): stop_

_Быстро (boistro): quickly_

_тише (tishe): quiet/hush_

_Review? Pretty please?_


	6. That's My Shirt and My Crossbow Too

_**A/N: **Punctuality isn't one of my strong suits when it comes to writing. My bad. Hopefully this chapter and the one hot on its trail will make up for my snails pace writing skills. Thanks to all you lovely readers and please feel free to throw suggestions, ideas and complaints my way. I am always open as long as it's constructive. _

_Please enjoy and let me know what you think!_

_((o))_

Carol was waiting anxiously at the edge of the woods when Daryl returned. The worry lines creasing her brow smoothed in an instant and a smile touched her lips. Her whole demeanor relaxed as he burst through the trees in a fury. She cried out in relief at the sight of him.

The sound barely registered in Daryl's mind, so focused was he on finding that damn slip of a girl. He walked right past Carol without even a glance.

She blanched, watching dejectedly as he walked away, the hurt evident on her face.

No one noticed.

He knew she was here. Her tracks circled back along with Carl's. At least he assumed they were Carl's; no one else was stupid enough to go wandering after the idiot girl. He'd had plenty of time to stew in his anger, following the messy trail for nearly 2 hours. He couldn't believe she and the boy somehow managed to completely bypass him. The thought made his blood boil.

Upon scanning the now bustling parking lot he found her easily. She was crouched beside an old yellow Volkswagon, trying to pry open the gas chamber. The rest of the group ran back and forth between the building and the cars like chickens with their heads cut off. They stuffed everything they had into the trunks, occasionally stopping to argue about something ridiculous, as they were prone to do.

Daryl paid them no mind.

Fueled by rage he stomped over, unsure of his intent. He walked straight through the disorganized assembly line. No one noticed, continuing with their tasks, completely oblivious.

He stopped just behind Lena and waited to be acknowledged. She froze at the shadow he cast over her.

Daryl watched as she gathered her courage and peaked at him over a slender shoulder. Sheltering dark green eyes with those long tanned fingers she observed him uneasily and shifted slowly to stand.

"We really have to stop meeting like this." She quipped, standing to her full height.

He prepared to say something particularly ugly but the words died on his lips when she faced him.

_Her shirt_.

His brain short-circuited.

_No,_ he amended in shock_, my shirt._

One of the worse-off ones: he'd ripped the sleeves off, too impatient to cut them straight. Loose threads hung from the fraying ends. The oversized armholes exposed the planes of her ribcage on both sides. More tattoos peaked out from underneath the worn fabric. He didn't have time to examine them though; she was speaking again. The words sounded garbled to his ears. He tried hard to make sense of them.

"Look, can we start over? I swear I won't karate chop you again. Truce?" Her voice, while bright and chipper held an edge, a slight strain. She tried hard to look strong but her body revealed exhaustion, betraying her. Shoulders hunched as if she were trying to curl into herself, protecting the injured shoulder. Still she wore the ghastly purple hippo sling. Daryl sneered at the offending print, losing track of her words.

At his lack of response Lena nervously pushed on.

"Here, I'll start." She held out a hand awkwardly for him to shake. "Hi, I'm Lena. What's your name?"

"That's my shirt." He blurt out, ignoring her feeble attempt to appease. More so than before he was painfully aware of the fact that she wore no bra.

She balked at his response; surprised he'd rather argue about a shirt than the fact that she'd taken him for a fool, again. "What a lovely name." She deadpanned. "Pleasure to meet you."

Lena had hoped humor might quell his anger. As far as she could tell it wasn't working. He was still doing the crazy eyes thing.

She was still talking but Daryl hardly listened, completely fixated on the shirt and how it clung to her in all the right places. He felt conflicted: he wanted to stay angry, but it seemed against the laws of nature for a man to stay angry at a woman whilst she wore his shirt. It just looked so good.

The curve of her breast peaked out enticingly from the oversized shirt, taunting him. His fingers tingled with the urge to touch and his face felt hot.

The unfamiliar feelings incensed him.

How dare she act so carefree. How dare she joke, taunt him, and skip around practically nude! He refused to be distracted by this con artist little brat.

No. It didn't matter how right she looked in his shirt. He needed to focus on being angry.

She dropped the proffered hand and stiffly inclined her head at someone behind him. "That woman over there gave it to me. " He glanced distractedly over his shoulder, mildly curious. The conflict raging inside his head skidded to a halt.

Carol. She was still there watching him. Guilt struck finally at the realization that he'd completely ignored her upon returning, consumed by his rampage to find this infuriating girl. Carol's gaze looked far off, sad. She locked eyes with him, unashamed to be caught spying. He gulped, throat suddenly bone dry. Poor Carol. All she did was try to look after him and he constantly brushed her off. He was becoming no better than that bastard husband of hers. The thought repulsed him. He vowed to apologize as soon as he finished with Lena. Giving the older woman a small nod he returned his gaze to the girl in question.

He attempted a glare but felt his anger losing steam. Lena shrugged, apprehensive.

Silently they watched, each sizing up the other.

Daryl tried to keep his gaze strictly clinical. He tried not to appreciate the way the fabric hung low at the front, revealing the elegant line of her collarbone. And he tried not to notice the secret looking tattoo that unfurled under the curve of her left breast, the ink stark against copper skin. How it disappeared beneath the shirt alluringly. How desperately he wished to see where it disappeared to. Most of all he tried not to think about how perfect she looked in _his_ shirt.

He tried and failed.

Lena cleared her throat. "Eyes up cowboy." The tips of his ears flushed bright red. With extreme effort he tore his eyes away, focusing on the skyline behind her as if something important suddenly caught his interest.

"Never mind. Gimme my crossbow." He demanded, refusing to look at her.

"Why?" Lena goaded. She smirked at his obvious discomfort, glad to be back on familiar territory now that his ire subsided. She liked taunting him. In the little time they'd known each other she'd become quite good at it.

"Because it's mine damn it! Why else!" He snapped. She could barely contain a laugh at the look of petulance on his face. He was seconds away from stomping his foot like an errant child.

"Ah, but possession is nine-tenths of the law, redneck. That makes it mine." She replied with a wink.

Her response must have blown a fuse somewhere in his brain because Daryl's mouth dropped open but no sound came out. Seeing an opportunity for escape Lena hobbled away before he could regain his senses, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

((o))

They drove east for hours, headed towards the coast. The sun hung low in the sky when they finally stopped to refuel, pulling off to the side of the 4-lane highway. The road was clear and trees ran on either side for miles. As soon as the caravan haulted everyone scattered to take bathroom breaks and stretch their legs. Lena sat in the passenger seat of the Chevy, too tired to move. She slung the car door open wide and dangled her legs out, stretching languidly.

Intent on being at least minutely useful she scanned their surroundings and tried to keep tabs on everyone's whereabouts in case of an emergency.

Rick pulled a few gas containers from the back of the car and walked over to the green van to help them refuel. Really it was just an excuse to try and talk to his grumpy wife. He wasn't fooling anyone. Lori leaned against the car and glared as he approached her.

Lena rolled her eyes and looked away, uninterested in the soap opera that was sure to take place. Drama wasn't her thing. She preferred comedy but none of these people seemed to share in her interest. However, she did find a certain redneck to be somewhat entertaining, even if she was currently aggravated with him.

She watched closely as said redneck disappeared into the woods behind some bushes and emerged just a few minutes later, zipping his fly. He walked back toward the road, his bike parked just a few feet in front of the Chevy. When he reached it he caught her stare and smirked knowingly. He made a show then of pulling a cigarette from the notch of his ear and lighting it, blue eyes twinkling.

Lena could only cut her eyes at him grumpily.

Daryl chuckled quietly and sipped a long drag from the cigarette as if sampling a fine wine. He locked eyes with her and exhaled slowly, deliberately.

_He's mocking me._ She thought bitterly, recalling their final conversation before leaving that dreadful doctor's office.

"_Those are mine aren't they?" Lena remarked blandly. He fingered a cigarette from the worn pack and touched it to his lips, eyes full of mirth as he regarded her._

"_Nine-tenths, kid." He said, mimicking her earlier words. "'Sides, ain't you too young to be smokin'?" He sheltered the cigarette behind a hand, hiding it from the wind and lit it with an old silver zippo. _

"_Oh I__ assure you redneck, I am old enough." She purred, insinuating that she was old enough for far more than just smoking. He nearly choked on the first drag and begun laughing uproariously. Her mouth hung open. 'It wasn't that funny.' Lena thought, mortified. She'd expected a much different reaction to her words. Had she misjudged his looks of appreciation? She couldn't tell. But there was no mistaking the giant smirk on his face as he walked away, exhaling a plume of gray smoke in his wake. Lena seethed._

Too exhausted to get up and give him a piece of her mind, she settled for flicking him off. The gesture only made him laugh louder, much to her annoyance. As the rest of the group began to wander back to the cars he dropped the cigarette to the concrete, grinding out the ashes with his boot and mounted the motorcycle.

The metal death trap roared to life beneath him.

She mentally face-palmed as she watched Carol straddle the seat behind him. The older woman wrapped her slender arms around his waist and tucked her chin into the crook of his neck oblivious to Lena's blatant stare.

How had she missed that?

Carol was his missus.

_Lena watched him walk away; astounded that things hadn't gone the way she'd planned them. How could he reject her? No one ever rejected her!_

_Fuming, she prepared to go after him and give him a piece of her mind. _

_She would have done too if it weren't for the older woman's interception. Lena watched curiously as the woman stood in front of him, touching his upper arms in a soothing gesture. She looked up at Daryl fondly, giving him a smile as he spoke softly to her. Lena couldn't make out their hushed tones but whatever he said made Carol incredibly happy because she hugged him before he could even finish, hiding her face in his shirt. The gesture startled him at first but he quickly hugged her back._

_They were a couple. Of course they were. _

_Jealousy struck her, unbidden. Stubbornly she tried to tamp it down, averting her gaze and walking in the other direction before they caught her gawking on the private moment._

Of course he would be attached to one of the women in the group. Married even. Why hadn't she noticed it before making such an idiotic pass at him? _And earlier in the woods._ The thought made Lena want to bang her head against a wall.

_Maybe he didn't remember._

She hoped he didn't remember.

"Are we almost there?" Carl asked. Lena jolted at the interruption. How did he do that? Pop up out of thin air? Her eyes bulged in alarm and she regarded him as if he were a scary insect, leaning away as he stepped closer.

"Yeah." She replied, tone mechanical.

"How much longer?" He continued. Lena rolled her eyes and fixed him with a glare.

"Couple hours." She replied cryptically. Carl huffed, unimpressed with the vague nature of her answers.

"Can I ride with you?"

"No." She responded, dismissive. Her eyes wandered back to Daryl distractedly.

"But—"

"Kid. I came back with you. You got what you wanted. Don't push your luck." She huffed testily, Daryl and her earlier embarrassing declaration temporarily forgotten.

"It's just a car ride." He whined, leaning against the open door. Lena arched away again, her side pressing into the center console uncomfortably. Why did the child insist on terrorizing her?

"No." She grunted. He frowned at her response.

"But the other car is so boring." He pouted in an attempt to gain sympathy. She glared, hoping to scare him off and end the conversation.

When he didn't leave she changed tactics. "Man you're right. This car too. You know what would make it better? If you joined us! We could play 'I Spy' and listen to the backstreet boys and talk about our feelings—" Lena gushed dramatically.

"Really?" He exclaimed excitedly, not catching the sarcasm in her tone.

"No." She deadpanned. "Now fuck off."

Rick cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

"I'd appreciate it if you would tone down the language." He suggested softly. Lena rolled her eyes but nodded impishly.

Nodding his thanks Rick sat down in the drivers seat next to her and started the car. Much to her displeasure Carl piled into the back after Glenn and T-Dog, ignoring her refusal. He immediately climbed to the far back to cuddle up with the sleeping dogs, no doubt the only reason he'd actually wanted to ride with her. She huffed irritably but said nothing, leaning her head against the window and focusing on the open highway.

Rick pulled out first, taking the lead and following Lena's directions. Daryl peeled out behind them on the motorcycle, and the green van after him. Unable to resist Lena took a peak at him in the side view mirror. The wind blew through his short locks, a riot of blond, whipping in every direction. Carol's arms wrapped tight around his middle.


	7. Preggo My Eggo

**A/N: **_Thank you, thank you, thank you to all the wonderful peoples who read my silly story. This is my first attempt at fanfiction and I am still learning the ropes so I appreciate your patience. _

_Without further ado, here it is. Hope you like it. Let me know what you think._

It was dark when they finally reached the city, stopping one last time to refuel just before nightfall. Lena insisted no one turn on their headlights for the remainder of the trip. Daryl glared at her like she'd grown a second head but begrudgingly obeyed.

Luckily the moon was full, affording them some natural lighting. It cast an eerie blue sheen on the empty streets. The buildings, long abandoned, looked like gaping faces. Banisters on old porches bared in their direction like jagged teeth, twisted and cracked in the dim light. White paint peeled away to reveal rotted gray wood. The houses were dead and decaying, just like the lifeless people littering the outskirts of the city.

Carol clung tightly to Daryl, hiding her face in his back. He had tried to convince her to ride in one of the cars for this part of the journey but she refused. After Rick's admission in the woods she wouldn't trust anyone but Daryl. The responsibility weighed heavily on him. She expected so much and he knew that eventually he would end up disappointing her. But he wanted to protect her. He owed her at least that since he'd failed so miserably at saving her daughter. That thought alone was the only thing that kept him from strangling the new girl.

_Well, that and the fact that she'd hidden his crossbow and claimed it as collateral._

At the moment Lena held their only shot at salvation (_and his crossbow)_. It enraged him even more.

The city was unnaturally quiet. Empty. Too empty. Every few blocks he could make out a body or two crumpled in the corner of a dark alley. None of them moved.

Too quiet.

Daryl _almost_ regretted riding the motorcycle. The roar of the engine echoed loudly off the empty buildings, announcing their presence. Lena tried to convince him to leave it at the last stop. Vehemently he'd refused, more interested in spiting the girl than in being rational. He felt ridiculous for it now. The kid really knew how to provoke his temper.

There was a roadblock coming up. This part of the city was more secluded, the road narrow and more uneven. Large oak trees bent low over the street. The mighty branches weaved together overhead, forming an ancient row of arches that made this stretch of road feel separate from the rest. Darker and more dangerous. The little moonlight that filtered through the network of hanging moss and branches cast a ghostly glow over everything. Layers upon layers of fall leaves covered the ground, hiding the asphalt; no street sweeper left to clear them. The filtered light glinted off the dried leaves gold and umber tinted blue.

The caravan halted at the barrier. Large orange barrels and traffic cones blocked the path. Just beyond the concrete was broken apart in large jagged pieces, pointing in every which direction. The pattern seemed to extend forever into the darkness; a valley of glacial asphalt, waiting for a titanic to sink black and gray teeth into.

Carol clutched his chest hard, her grasp borderline painful. Daryl grimaced, cutting the engine. At first Carol didn't move, still holding him tight. He gently grasped her hands and dislodged them from his shirt. He stood and helped her off the bike. Holding her upper arms he looked her up and down, making sure she was okay. She nodded stiffly at his searching gaze. He nodded back solemnly and released her, clearing his throat awkwardly.

A few feet ahead the Chevy parked and the doors opened. Tired feet touched the crunchy down of leaves against concrete and doors slammed. The front passenger door swung open and Lena slid out, oddly graceful considering her injury. The crunch of leaves beneath her worn boots seemed a visible relief to the girl. She leaned heavily on the open door and sighed, watching her new companions stretching and taking in their surroundings.

Satisfied that Carol was fine, Daryl stomped over to the younger girl to figure out what was going on.

"What is this? Some kind of joke?" Daryl spat temper flaring. She seemed far too at ease with the situation for his liking.

"Am I laughing?" She held the door as the dogs slinked out, stretching tired limbs from the long ride. As soon as Sputnik's paws touched the concrete Lena slammed the door and glared mutinously back at Daryl. He towered over her menacingly. Both dogs disappeared past the cones, not waiting for their master.

The van pulled up next. Lori, Hershel and his daughters piled out, looking around anxiously.

"Why are we stopped?" Lori demanded, hurrying to her son and hugging him close. Lena ignored her, still in the middle of a stare down with Daryl. Rick moved around the hood of the Chevy to stand next to Lena.

"Well?" He prompted, shifting uneasily under his wife's murderous stare. Lena gave him a sidelong glance.

"We walk from here." She told them finally, bracing for the onslaught of anger. Before she'd even finished the women were gasping dramatically and Daryl had her by the scruff of her dingy shirt, forcing her up onto her tiptoes. She nearly stumbled but righted herself quickly and met his glare. He leaned in close, breath hot on her face. He smelled like bonfires, tobacco spice, and pure sex.

_For someone so volatile he had to be fucking fantastic in bed._ Lena mused, once again jealous of the older woman who owned him. She smirked sardonic; here he was ready to rip her head off and all she could think about was his _possible_ sexual prowess. It'd been far too long since she'd gotten proper laid.

"You think you're so funny, don't you kid?" He growled, shaking her hard for emphasis.

"Would you calm your tits, please!" She sneered, remembering herself. She grabbed at his fingers clenched in the flimsy fabric.

"Daryl." Rick warned softly, a hand on his shoulder. Daryl grunted angrily but released Lena, shoving her back into the red Chevy and stepping away.

"Jesus!" She mumbled affronted, straightening her shirt.

"Un-fucking-believable." He growled, twisting both hands into his short unruly locks and turning away. Lena eyed him warily.

"You can't be serious!" Lori exclaimed angrily.

"As a heart attack." Lena condescended. "We're safer walking through that than through the rest of the city." She nodded at the road construction ahead. "Zombies can't navigate obstacles like we can."

_She had a point,_ Daryl thought reluctantly.

"You've done this before?" T-Dog asked skeptically.

"Only way to get back to camp." Replied Lena impatiently.

"What about the supplies?" Glenn wondered.

"Grab what you can." She instructed. "If there's anything left we'll come back for it tomorrow."

Glenn shrugged in agreement and went to collect what he could from the van. Maggie and her sister reluctantly followed.

"No, this is crazy. She's leading us into a trap!" Lori persisted loudly, trying to stop them.

Lena sighed dramatically and pushed off the Chevy, stepping close to the pregnant woman.

Lori held Carl's arm in a vice grip at Lena's approach. Rick looked on nervously, unsure of whether or not he should come to his wife's aid.

"Look preggo-my-eggo, I'm not forcing you to do anything. All I know is that I'm going that way," She pointed at the torn up pavement ahead, speaking slowly and pronouncing each syllable as if speaking to a small child, "because that way is home. Feel free to join me. Otherwise no one's stopping you from pissing off in the other direction. So kindly shut the fuck up. Please and thank you?" She said saccharin-sweet, pushing past the woman to help gather supplies.

Daryl couldn't hold back a grin at the girl's audacity. It was about time someone stood up to Lori.

Lena winked at him conspiratorially as she hobbled past. She may be a pain in the ass but he admired her guts.

((0))

They packed everything up in record time, managing to take all but the gas canisters.

"Follow me." Lena instructed, "Don't rush. Don't wander off, " specifically eyeing Carl hidden off to the side. "And watch where you step." She had the crossbow strapped over her shoulder again. Daryl eyed it covetously but kept his distance.

He would get it back eventually, he just had to bide his time. Wait for the perfect moment.

The walk was short, a few minutes. The mess of construction lasted only for a couple blocks, not as infinite as it seemed originally in the dark. They reached a roundabout lined with expensive looking houses, mansions. In the center a quaint little park was placed, marked by large oak trees and shrubbery of peculiar shape. Perhaps well groomed into the forms of animals once upon a time.

_If I see a bush in the shape of a hippo someone's losing an eye._ Daryl thought mutinously.

The houses all had large walls of granite block or brick surrounding them, some tipped with intricate iron points and reaching well over 10 feet tall. All _appeared_ to be abandoned.

The torn up asphalt stopped at the roundabout though the construction continued. Tractors of all shapes and sizes were abandoned at the other end of the small park. One of the biggest was left crashed into a house, the wall blown apart and the side of the home ripped open by the large digging apparatus at the front of the vehicle.

The asphalt was replaced with uneven dirt, large holes scattered randomly throughout, some deeper than others. One side of the circle was lined with a crisscross of metal beams stretched over flattened dirt: leftovers intended as foundations for a road never completed. Lena stopped them here.

She dropped her backpack in the dirt and bent gingerly to unzip it, reaching inside with her good arm and unearthing a small walkie-talkie.

"Turn off your flashlights." She told them, still on bended knee.

"But—" Lori protested.

"Just do it! If anything's coming the dogs will let us know." Lena snapped, silencing her.

Curious Daryl peered into the darkness, just able to make out a dark furry blur moving low to the ground on the far right side. To the left a pair of bright yellow eyes shown unblinking.

The dogs were handy. He wished he'd had the patience for some of his own before all this. Daryl had never been much of an animal person though. His most recent experience with a certain horse was proof of that.

Flashlights off Lena stood and switched the device on, pressing the call button. She spoke into it quietly.

"Neverland. This is pan over." She mumbled into the receiver. She glanced back at Daryl and swore she could see his face split into a mocking smirk even in the dark.

The response was almost immediate.

"No, no Lena. That's last week's code. We change it every Tuesday. Remember? Over." A quirky female voice responded matter-of-fact.

"Obviously I wasn't here on Tuesday so I wouldn't know." Lena bit.

"Is that Lena? She's alive?" Another voice, heavy with sleep, interrupted. Male this time.

"Yup. You're free day is mine bitch!" The girl replied excitedly.

"Betting on my survival again? Haven't you guys got better things to do?_'_" Lena huffed irritably.

"All in good fun Lena." Lilted the sleepy voice.

"I bet in your favor!" Chirped the girl.

"Yeah, well thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Love you Leelee!" The girl replied only mildly apologetic.

"Whatever, just open the gate. I brought back some more mouth breathers." Retorted Lena wearily.

"Right—MITYA! Get the gate!" The girl yelled, forgetting to take her finger off the call button. Shuffling noises followed and a door open and slammed. Another voice joined the girl's.

"Yes. I am here. Over" A deeper male voice interjected in a heavy accent.

"открыть дверь, Митя!" Lena snapped impatiently.

"Yes, yes. но… you do the thing со светом." He replied in broken English.

"What! Come on, it's Lena." The chipper girl whined. Lena rolled her eyes.

"No. я не могу. Shauna say: 'Yelena must do the lights or she sleep outside with her dogs.' She say this to me. What can I do?" He replied slowly, sounding confused. "правила есть правила. Over" He said and then finally clicked out.

Another voice boomed in before Lena could respond. "Get off the walkie Arnold Schwarzenegger. No one can understand a damn word you're saying. You are banned from the walkie!" The woman shouted authoritatively. "And don't think I didn't hear the other two of you, chatting away like some gossipy little housewives. Keep your crap off the radio!"

Thoroughly reprimanded no one responded. Radio silence.

"Hey Shauna." Lena said finally.

"Don't you hey me. Just do the damn light thing so we can get this shit over with and I can go to bed." Shauna replied grumpily.

"Yes ma'am." Lena agreed and then shut off the radio.

"Right," She conceded, turning to the group, "gimme that." She demanded impatiently, snatching a flashlight away from Carl. She switched it on and shined it toward the building on the far right side of the roundabout. A high brick wall surrounded it, a pattern of iron spears embellishing the tops. She turned the light on and off 4 times in quick succession, paused for a moment and then did one longer one. A side gate opened slowly in answer.

"Watch your step." Lena repeated, beckoning the group to follow. She whistled loud once and immediately the dogs sprinted out of the darkness towards the gate, entering. Lena led the group out onto the crisscrossed beams, stepping carefully in the open spaces. She held the flashlight facing the ground, lighting the path so she wouldn't fall. Daryl was the first to follow, everyone else reluctantly falling in line.

They reached the open gate, a small ironwork door on the alley side of the wall. It was situated in a small gap between the wall of this house and the next. A tall well-muscled man with a buzz cut stood holding the gate open. He looked to be in his early 30's. His face stern and jaw clenched. His attire was similar to Lena's: dark boots, black pants, shirt and jacket. The man eyed each member of the group suspiciously as they entered.

"спасибо Митя." Lena told him with a quick nod. He grunted noncommittally in return, closing and locking the gate behind them. He slid another door, a heavy wooden one, in place overtop of it and locked it as well. Once the doors were secure he shooed them all away and waved at a white van parked at the end of the courtyard. A blonde woman sat in the drivers seat. She drove the van in front of the door. Turning it off the woman hopped out daintily and trotted straight to Lena. She hugged Lena, twittering excitedly.

"Leelee! I'm so glad you're back!" She exclaimed happily. Her strawberry blonde hair was cropped short and held back by a pink headband. Unlike the Russian man the blonde girl wore a tennis skirt and tank top, all in pale pastels.

Lena cringed at the unwanted nickname.

"Vicky. You're just saying that because you won the betting pool." Lena muttered grumpily.

"Added bonus." The girl admitted with a cheesy smile, squeezing her tighter. Lena was a full head taller than Vicky.

"Ouch." Lena winced as Vicky squeezed her injured arm too tight. The blonde girl stepped back worriedly and noticed the purple hippo sling and her bandaged shoulder.

"What happened?" She asked, eying Lena nervously.

"Some asshole shot me." Lena muttered, glaring daggers at the little boy a few feet away. Carl merely rolled his eyes at the jab.

"You look like shit." A very pregnant little black woman proclaimed moodily as she jostled into the courtyard. She held her stomach protectively, glaring at the new arrivals.

"Shauna! I missed you too!" Lena replied dramatically.

Shauna's hair was held back in a tight bun and she wore long dangly bauble earrings. A loose fitted green dress contrasted beautifully against her dark skin.

"I have half a mind to dangle you over the wall by your toes as bait." The woman snapped, "You have some nerve running around like you own the place. If we didn't have so many pussies around here I'd take you off supply duty." Shauna threatened, cocking a hip. She sounded angry but she was obviously fond of Lena and happy to have her back.

"Who are these people?" She demanded, finally acknowledging the group that hovered behind Lena awkwardly, laden with supplies.

"Shauna, I brought you a present." Lena exclaimed, going to stand beside Lori. She nudged her excitedly. Lori glared at her but shuffled forward awkwardly. Rick and Carl stayed close behind her.

"This is Lori. She's pregnant too! _And_ she likes talking about killing me. Just like you! You guys can be bestest buds!" Lena exclaimed.

Shauna rolled her eyes but understood now why Lena brought them: the pregnant woman and the child standing behind her.

"Cute." She responded blandly, crossing her arms over her belly.

"Cool so—" Lena started cautiously.

"You know the drill." Shauna cut her off.

"Right. Fine, I'm going." Lena submitted, making her way towards the main building.

"Follow me." She beckoned the group.

((0))

They entered through the basement level and walked down a long corridor. The property was made up of several buildings and took up an entire city block, much bigger than it looked on the outside. They were currently inside the main building.

The basement level was low lit with glow sticks and candles, nothing bright enough to be seen outside.

As they passed several doors Daryl could see chalkboards and desks through the small slits of glass. Some of the doors had plaques with names like _Mr. White _or _Dr. Delacour_ engraved there.

This was a school.

At the end of the hallway they entered a large classroom with rows of black tables and lab equipment. This room had no windows and more lighting than the rest. Fluorescent lights glared harsh, Daryl's eyes begging adjustment. He squinted, barely making out the lone man stood at one of the lab tables on the far end of the room. He was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a typical white lab coat, concentrating on a mess of specimen dishes under a microscope. He stopped his work and looked up, surprised by the large group.

"Lena." He greeted, blinking rapidly. He pushed away from the table and walked over to the them.

"What's up doc?" She replied, removing the purple hippo-printed sling. "Listen I'm tired so lets get this over with, okay?" She had the shirt up and over her head before Lori could clap a hand over Carl's eyes.

"What are you doing!" Lori cried in outrage, hiding Carl's face in her stomach.

The doctor seemed unfazed by Lena's behavior and watched quietly as she pulled off her shoes and pants as well, Hershel, T-Dog and Glenn looked away embarrassed. Daryl couldn't help but gawk, too surprised to look away and too enthralled to stop her. Carol stood by him, staring intently at the white tile floor.

Lena removed the bandage from her shoulder and stood before them in only her underwear.

Well now Daryl knew where those tattoos went: laced around her side from rib to opposite hip to intertwine with the pattern of scales down her leg. And even more ink was revealed to him. Some sort of intricate symbol, a wagon wheel perhaps, adorned her left shoulder. He gulped audibly.

"And that is?" The doctor asked nodding at her shoulder.

"Bullet wound." She sighed.

The doctor nodded. "Can anyone confirm that?" He asked the group.

"I cauterized it myself." Hershel spoke up, still looking away. The doctor smiled eagerly at the revelation.

"Good. Sounds like you now what you're doing. It'll be good to have you." The doctor replied.

"K, can I go now?" Lena whined impatiently.

"To quarantine." He replied staunchly. She grumbled petulantly in response.

"And go find Mrs. Stark to put a new bandage over that." He instructed.

"Yeah, yeah." She muttered, shoving the shirt into Daryl's hands with a wink as she walked past, not bothering to redress.

Several times Daryl looked back and forth between the flimsy shirt in his hands and the door Lena had just exited through, flabbergasted by what had just happened.

"What the hell was that?" Glenn asked, dumbfounded.

"Procedure. Anytime we have new arrivals or someone returns from going outside the walls we check for bites." The doctor replied calmly. Lori took a breath, ready to protest but the doctor cut her off. "Don't worry, we have a nurse for the women and you'll have a robe and some privacy." He assured them.

"_Some people_—" He continued with a smile, obviously referring to Lena, "are impatient and prefer to get it over with quickly. Mrs. Stark should be back any minute—" A shout of surprise cut him off.

The doctor rolled his eyes as Shauna's voice rang clear down the hall. "_Bitch, how many times do I have to tell you? Put your damn clothes on!_"

"If you'd all like to go outside. I'll take the gentlemen one at a time." The doctor continued, ignoring the hullabaloo in the hall as if it were a normal everyday occurrence.

_открыть дверь, Митя: Open the door Mitya!_

_но: but_

_со светом: with the light_

_я не могу: I can't_

_правила есть правила: rules are rules_

_спасибо Митя: thank you, Mitya_


End file.
